Strangers
by Penguin-sama
Summary: YAOI. Sometimes you have to learn to see past the exterior. Rating for language.
1. Chapter 1

This is actually the third incarnation of an older fic and I STILL have no idea where it's going. Thus, there's more fluff than plot here (Bridges fans, you know what I'm talking about). If you want plot, go check out Fealty.

This began as an expirament - seeing if I could reveal one character's growth through the eyes of another. Thus, much of this is from one single point of view. Hope you enjoy - and please forgive me: I'm in a hurry and don't have time to edit it right now.

_Strangers_

Chapter One

* * *

"Damn it all to _hell_ !" Yohji Kudoh cursed with seething vehemence, slamming his gloves down on the kitchen table. Exhaustion, both mental and physical, made his hand tremble as he raked it back through the tangled rats' nest that had once been his beloved golden curls. He _hoped_ that blood and sweat and mud were the _only_ things marring his precious locks, and made a quick mental note to schedule a _long_ appointment with his stylist asap.

_Gods_ but he needed a drink!

"A little help?" a voice called crossly.

The mission tonight was going down in Yohji's books as one of the worst failures ever. He couldn't think of a single thing that _hadn't _ gone wrong.

"Yohji!"

Too tired to argue, the blonde moved back to the kitchen door to hold it open. Omi, perhaps sensing weakness in his friend's defenses, spared a moment to pierce him with a tired glare before he hitched Ken's arm more securely around his shoulders.

Omi had never been very good at holding a grudge, though, and Yohji was quite sure he _looked_ every bit as bad as he _felt_ . Omi's glare softened after only a few moments.

"Thanks, Yotan," he mumbled as he passed, helping the limping Ken up the back stairs and into the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure," the older blonde sighed. His eyes shifted past his two teammates and into the night outside, and he stared until his vision adjusted enough for him to make out a pair of eyes watching him, cat-like, almost glowing, through the darkness. "You want me to hold the door?" he called.

Silence. The feline-ish gaze darted away.

In Aya-speak, that usually meant 'no.'

"Man needs to get laid in the _worst_ way…" Yohji mumbled under his breath, letting the screen slam shut behind him. Omi had already begun the process of helping Ken up the stairs, and there wasn't room for a third to help – as if Yohji would have, anyway! he thought – and so he headed back across the room, straight for the fridge.

Drinking himself into oblivion, he decided, was the only way to make this night salvageable.

"Yotan!" Omi called suddenly from upstairs.

"Not now, kiddo – you missed your chance."

"I need help, please!"

"Daddy's getting' his booze on!"

"_Now,_ Yohji!"

Yohji found himself staring at the fresh, completely unmolested six-pack that had been chilling in the refrigerator, waiting for him, since early afternoon.

"Just one," he decided, whispering to the beers in much the same way as he would whisper to a lover. "One little drink, and then I'll go help the kid. One eensy weensy, life-giving drink…"

"Balanese!"

Yohji hung his head. Omi was code-naming him, which meant there _wasn't_ time for 'just one' because he _would_ try to murder him if he didn't come _immediately_ .

"Fu-ck…" Yohji whimpered, and he slammed the refrigerator door closed hard enough that he could hear things rattle inside. "What do you need, Omi?" he called reluctantly.

"First aid kit! It should be under the sink!"

"Damn it…" he groaned as he squatted to look through the cabinets. He spared a glance at the kitchen door, but Aya hadn't come in yet.

So much for the idea of shoving the chore off on his leader.

Yohji found the little white box, and groaned again as he rose. His legs _ached_ from the damned mission. Each step he took was suddenly painful as, working as one, each and every joint decided to protest being forced into motion without the sweet motivation alcohol so efficiently provided.

Ken's room wasn't any smaller than any of the others', but it always seemed that way. Cluttered with trophies, framed photos, and equipment from every sport imaginable, it always smelled vaguely of sweat to Yohji.

"Whore idea was it to cut power to the elevators _first_ , anyway?" he complained as he entered the room. They must have spent half the night running up and down flights of stairs. "I am _so_ fucking _tired_ !"

"We're all fucking tired!" Omi snapped impatiently, past the point of being cute or affectionate, as Yohji tossed the first aid kit onto his lap and moved to slump, exhausted, on the end of the bed.

"You're too young to be tired," the blonde muttered. He glanced at Ken, who was usually the first to scold when their youngest teammate used foul language – something about "kids being kids for as long as possible," which usually resulted in a giant fight and a week-long sulk-fest – but tonight the athlete was either too tired to care, or being an even bigger baby about his stupid sprained ankle than he'd been during the long drive home.

Omi had the other assassin stripped down to his boxers and lying on his back on the bed and Yohji, much to his own disappointment, was too tired even to tease.

"You need to get some sleep, chibi." Yohji said finally, noting how pale and tired Omi looked. He had to raise his voice to be heard over Ken's fake whimpers. "Have you done your homework yet?"

"I kinda had other things on my mind," Omi mumbled, trying to coax Ken into moving his ankle.

"Well, whatever you have left, just leave it tonight, okay?" Yohji suggested. He was tired, but damn it if the kid didn't bring out something protective in him. And you can stay home from school tomorrow, too," he added.

"Yotan…"

"I'm serious! You stay home, and if almighty leader Aya has a problem with it, you just send him my way, all right? Papa Yotan will even sign your excuse note."

Omi hesitated, then sighed. He looked up at Yohji with a wane smile.

"Sure," he said. "Thanks, Yotan."

"Good!" Yohji gave an emphatic nod, convinced he had done his good deed for the day. "Anything else you need, or can I go get hammered now? I'm gonna need a couple drinks in my system if I'm gonna have to look at Ken in his boxers for much longer."

"I don't want that idiot touching me!" Ken protested quickly, momentarily forgetting his pity act.

"Bit me, all right? Ass. 'Scuse me for trying to help. I'm just trying to make things easier for Omi."

"You? _Help_ ?" Ken laughed.

"Yotan's been a _big_ help, ken!" Omi said quickly, before a fight could erupt. "And I'm very grateful to him!"

"See Kenken? I _am_ helpful."

"Yes! Helpful!" Omi repeated. "And now the best help you would be is if you went to check on Aya for me!"

"_Aya_ !" Yohji was taken aback by the very _idea_ .

"I think that guy in the hat managed to cut him up pretty good."

"When did that happen?" they had cornered their targets – after what felt like an eternity of running _up_ stairs – on the roof of an office building. Desperate men, one of them had managed to grab Aya to use as a hostage, but it had only been a few moments before the leader of Weiss had managed to get his sword arm free. The man's head had been flying off the roof before Yohji had even realized Aya was in danger.

"Yotan, if you could go and take care of Ayan for me, I could go to bed as soon as I'm finished here. You know – instead of staying up for the rest of the night trying to convince him to let me give him stitches."

Omi, Yohji realized with a scowl, was _far_ too skilled at looking helpless and innocent. Even fully aware of the fact he was being manipulated, the older blonde found saying no to those huge puppy eyes impossible.

"And what makes you think the bastard will let _me_ close enough to patch him up?" Yohji argued weakly. It was his personal theory that Aya was afraid of needles, though he'd never be stupid enough to admit that suspicion out loud. In any case, giving the man any sort of medical attention usually required chasing him around for _hours_ .

"Oh, now, Yotan, that's not fair! He's really gotten much better!"

Ken snickered. Loudly.

Until Yohji "accidentally" bumped his injured ankle.

"You know what, chibi?" he asked with forced lightness, knowing he had no choice but to relent. "Fine. Yeah – I'll do it. There's just one thing I want you to think about after I'm gone."

Omi selected the ankle brace from the first aid kit and handed him the box with a bright smile.

"What is that, Yotan?" he asked lightly.

"I want you to think about the very real possibility that our beloved leader will murder me in cold blood the minute I walk into his room uninvited. I'm not cute like you, kid – I have no defense! And if he kills me, where will that leave Weiss?"

"Shopping for your replacement," Ken answered.

"Oh! I hope the new guy has a nice car!"

"_Omi!_ " Yohji clutched a hand to his chest.

"Of course I'm teasing, Yotan. I have _complete_ confidence that you'll survive his injuries – I wouldn't send you otherwise."

"We'll be sure to keep your feeding tube from getting clogged!" Ken added. His laughter turned into a sudden, pained yelp.

Omi blinked innocently at him.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Ken! Was your ankle not supposed to turn that way?"

"Now that's what I call a nice note to leave on," Yohji grinned. "Have fun with nurse Omi, Kenken. You've earned it."

"Maybe this time you'll think twice before letting yourself get injured," Omi'a voice was a cheerful companion to Ken's suddenly very real whimpers.

As Yohji closed the door after himself, he sent up a silent prayer that Omi tortured the hell out of Ken. Then, gathering his courage, he headed down the hall toward Aya's room.

The door was closed – which meant the man had finally come inside and gone straight up to his room without so much as checking on any of his teammates.

"Sweet man," Yohji mumbled under his breath. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to decide who scared him more – Omi or Aya. If he dared to enter Aya's room – the inner sanctuary itself – without permission, Yohji had no doubt he would find a katana shoved far enough up his ass for him to taste steel.

But…then again…if he didn't at least _try_ to do what Omi had asked of him, the kid would find ways to torture him that would be so unspeakably evil he couldn't even fathom them.

"What the hell do you want?"

The icy voice of Aya Fujimiya had been enough to make grown men soil themselves before they ever saw the sword or the glare. It greeted Yohji with harsh impatience as he pushed open the door, and damn it but he had to keep walking in anyway.

The room was completely dark, and it was several moments before Yohji was able to pick out the small form of his leader sitting on the bed. Turning on the lights was suicidal, but so was disobeying Omi. Yohji had no choice.

Aya's retinas contracted, but that was the only visible reaction Yohji could see. The damned man didn't so much as flinch at the sudden brightness. He was utterly motionless, and the only clue that he might be hurt was his posture – slightly slumped, an arm around his midsection, shoulders heavy. His glare was sharp, dark, and terrifying.

"What the hell do you want?" he repeated, impatience rising in his voice.

Yohji tried to replicate one of Omi's 'cute and harmless' smiles, and held the first aid kit out in front of him as if it were some magical shield that would protect him.

"I come in peace," he said. "The chibi sent me."

Aya only grunted and continued to glare suspiciously.

"It's no big deal, but Omi wanted me to check on you, see? Harmless and well-meaning. That's me."

Those violet eyes narrowed, promising violence, and Yohji sighed.

"Look, Aya…if you're hurt, then _someone's_ gotta help you out. Omi's exhausted, and Ken's gonna milk that stupid twisted ankle for all its worth. The only one left is me. So why not suck up your disappointment and not make this harder than it has to be? I don't know about you, but I'd like to be able to pass out in my own friggen' bed sometime _before_ sunrise."

Aya grunted again, and his glare didn't lessen. Yohji had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping in shock when, stone-faced and silent, the small man stood and shrugged carefully out of his mission coat.

"You're really gonna make it _this_ easy?" he asked. "My plea for human empathy _worked_ ?"

Aya ignored him.

Out of all the men of Weiss, Aya was the only one whose bedroom connected to a private bathroom – a bathroom, Yohji had learned the hard way, which the man did _not_ share. Without a word to Yohji, he headed there now, and the blonde could only follow – guessing (and hoping he was right) that the man really had given him permission to look at his wounds.

Aya was easing himself down on the edge of the tub, and his movements were slow, careful, and clearly pained. His shirt clung wetly to his small frame – and Yohji knew that _sweat_ wasn't the culprit.

"You're…that…that's a lot of blood, man," Yohji said uselessly.

Aya didn't answer, instead beginning the careful process of peeling the shirt off. The blood had begun to dry, the wound to clot, and a few times the shirt tried to catch on it, but Aya ignored it as if he didn't notice.

Yohji had never imagined the man's body was so frail. His skin was impossibly pale, stretched tightly over his bones and small muscles with little to no trace of anything resembling healthy fat – as if he had purposefully worked to streamline his entire form by any means necessary, and without thought for his future health.

"It's started bleeding again," Aya stated. "Do something or get out."

He looked impossibly fragile as he sat on the edge of the tub, staring at Yohji with frozen expectancy. There were scars on his small body – mostly small, all fading pinkly into that fair skin – the usual fare for an assassin. On that small body, they looked harsh and cruel. That body was not built for pain.

His new wounds were even worse.

And there was no doubt they, too, would leave their mark.

"Stop gaping at me like an idiot. It looks worse than it is."

The man who had grabbed Aya had made quick work with his knife. Maliciously, going for pain, rather than death, he had managed to cause multiple slashes before Aya had killed him. By far the deepest was a nick just at the hollow of his throat. Caused by the very tip of the knife and less than two inches long, it could have meant the end of the leader of Weiss had his assailant been just a tad more fortunate.

"Forget it. Get the hell out." Aya rose swiftly.

The rest of his body had been fairly well protected by the leather of his coat. The other slashes, though long and bloody, were also thin and shallow, and most would probably not even need many stitches. The one along his forearm might interfere with his swordwork a little, and the long, jagged gash trailing from his chest to his midsection was bound to make most movements more than a little uncomfortable in the weeks to come, but, barring infection, he was going to be fine.

"Where do you think you're going?" Yohji demanded as he tried to push past him. His movements indicated discomfort, and the blonde wondered if the other man hadn't dislocated something when pulling his sword around.

"Krittiker has scheduled us for our annual physicals in two days," the small man bit out. "They can check me then."

"In two days?"

"Better than allowing a slack-jawed idiot to touch me," he seethed.

"Now you hold just one damn minute!" Yohji didn't miss his wince as he grabbed him by the shoulders and deposited him firmly on the edge of the tub once more. "Slack-jawed and idiot are a little harsh, but I've been given a mission and damn it if I'm not gonna see that it gets done!"

"_Kudoh_ …"

"I'm patching you up whether you like it or not, even if I have to use force. I'll tackle you to the ground and break your legs before I'll tell Omi I let you scare me away from helping him out – so sit there and shut up and stop being a damn bastard about it!"

Yohji had little experience with glaring. Charm, humor, and good-old-fashioned sex appeal was generally all that was needed to get what he wanted and intimidation was, quite frankly, a tool he rarely attempted to use.

Thus, he severely doubted that the 'scary face' he was attempting to direct at his leader was even half way as frightening as the look he was getting in return, but _something_ seemed to have an effect on the stubborn son of a bitch for, after a moment longer of glowering at him, the man looked away.

"That's more like it," Yohji said with a nod, taking the breaking of eye-contact for the best consent he was likely to receive. He quickly washed his hands at the sink before opening the first aid kit.

It was hardly a dignified position, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat, the kit clutched between his knees, but he wasn't about to complain when he had been lucky to make it this far in the first place. Determined to fight the urge to rush to finish, Yohji vowed he would do the damn finest job patching up a teammate Weiss had ever seen.

"This happened right after we reached the roof, right?" he asked, starting to clean the wound on his arm first.

Aya was silent for a long moment before finally grunting a quiet "Yes."

"But you took out, like, three other guys after this bastard, didn't you?"

Again, a stretch of silence. Antisocial and unpleasant as Aya usually was, Yohji had the supreme luck of pissing him off, as well. He was, naturally, a joy to speak to.

"What," he demanded at last, "Is your point?"

"Just…well…" Yohji hesitated, and wondered if he wouldn't have been better off keeping his damned mouth closed. Awkward silences drove him crazy, but they were a hell of a lot safer than attempting to converse with someone like Aya. "I'm not sure I would have done it, that's all."

"Nh?"

"Cut the hell up, blood everywhere, pain…I mean, I think _I_ woulda' decided to let the rest of us take care of the guys who were left. Nobody would have blamed you if you had – no one blamed Ken when he wimped out on the twelfth floor and refused to go the final seven with us, did they?"

Silence, then: "Didn't you call him an ass bastard fuck hat, and tell him he should be too ashamed to show his face in public ever again?"

"That was just friendly encouragement."

Aya grunted. For a wonder, it almost sounded amused.

"Anyway," Yohji continued, moving to the abdomen slash after wrapping the arm wound. Without being asked, Aya leaned back to give him better access. "It woulda' been different with you, wouldn't it? I mean, you aren't Ken. Thank the gods."

Aya snorted.

"And, you know, you aren't _me_ , either, which means you _definitely_ could have gotten away with it – and we should be fucking thankful, too, 'cause the ladies of the world couldn't handle two of me. But, y'know, just because you aren't Ken and you aren't me and, hell, you aren't Omi either, that doesn't mean…"

"What?"

"Well…it doesn't mean you aren't human. It's okay for you to take a break once in a while, right? I mean, how many hours a day do you spend training?"

"I have to lead the Weiss."

Yohji urged him to tilt his head back so that he could begin the delicate task of seeing to the final wound, and Aya complied coldly, but without argument. It was quiet for a moment as Yohji cleaned out the wound and thought.

"A good leader knows when he's pushed his body too far," he said at last. "After all, if _you_ died, then that would leave _Omi_ in charge and, just between the two of us, I just don't think the chibi is ready for that kind of responsibility.

Aya didn't answer.

"I don't know what you're fighting for," Yohji said quietly, "But even a stubborn, single-minded jackass like you has got to know that dying is the _last_ thing that's gonna help you reach your goal."

This time, the silence that fell was lasting. Yohji finished up and took a moment to survey his work. His stitches weren't exactly pretty, but they served their purpose well enough. At least no one would accuse him of doing a half-assed job of it. He tested Aya's shoulder for a sprain, but found it difficult to gauge when the man was so blank to signs of pain.

"At the very least, I think you twisted it, so no heavy lifting until you talk to the doctor, okay?" Yohji attempted a smile, but the man only stared at him. "Look – just…try to be a little easier on this body of yours, okay?" on impulse, and because the urge to annoy was such a very persistent one, he took the nearly-suicidal risk and reached out to tug on a strand of Aya's hair. Although the man didn't react at all, the air around them suddenly became pressingly full of menace.

Yohji rose and held his hands out harmlessly in front of himself.

"Okay!" he laughed. "Okay, I'm leaving!"

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

What a bad way to begin a new fic. Once again, time is limited, so no editing. Forgive me.

* * *

"Coffee's on the counter, Yotan."

The blonde groaned lustily and began making a bee-line for the pot. Funny how much more he ached this morning than he had when he had finally fallen into bed – was it only four hours ago?

Grabbing the first mug he found, Yohji didn't even bother to check to see if it was clean before pouring the coffee inside.

"Careful – it's hot."

Nodding, Yohji took an experimental sip. Then another.

Finally, he threw his head back and moaned.

"_Gods!_ Marry me, Omi."

"First of all – yuck. Secondly, as I'm underage, the very idea is very, very illegal."

"Ah, but you'd make the best wife ever…" he mumbled, sliding into a chair.

The younger man heaved a heavy sigh. He knew, wisely, that trying to argue with Yohji about one of the blonde's stupid leaps of logic was pointless, and only encouraged him. Yohji had been very disappointed when he had first realized the kid had him figured out. Now he was just thankful he hadn't bothered to share the knowledge with the rest of the team.

Yohji would never get to have any fun if they _all_ learned to ignore him.

"Shut up and drink your coffee," the youngest Weiss ordered, reluctantly resigned to the other man's mood.

"Breakfast?" Yohji asked hopefully.

"In the oven."

"I swear, chibi, I would pay for your sex change operation out of my own pocket."

"Yotan? You've passed the _quirky_ line, and are running headlong to the _creepy_ one."

"Thanks for the warning – but this is just me when I'm sleep-deprived. Get used to it if you plan to keep dragging _my_ ass outta' bed to help open the shop. You _know_ I'm not a morning person."

The timer on the oven went off, and with another sigh, the youngest Weiss went to check on the food. "I explained all of this to you before, Yotan," he said wearily. "Ken's going to be laid up in bed for weeks, and Aya's not going to be able to do a lot of bending or lifting until his wounds heal. We're going to be the only ones available to open for a while."

"Unless the Krittiker docs say our buddies are just playing the pity card with us when we go in for those nasty physicals."

"True," he acknowledged. "But…"

But it was doubtful. The reason Weiss preferred to do its own patching up was the simple reason that Krittiker was far too protective of their people – as long as they were off duty. Sending them into danger, sanctioning them to murder, that was one thing. But if they got injured and survived, then they could find themselves faced with months of hospital time, complete with humiliating, uncomfortable, and often painful tests, for something as simple as a bullet wound.

"Can't we just…open the shop later while they're out of commission?" he asked hopefully.

"_No_, Yohji."

Omi returned to the table with two plates of muffins, and he couldn't hide a tired sigh as he sat back down. The cute act no doubt took far more energy than it looked like, and, as the kid had pointed out last night, Yohji hadn't been the only one to leave their mission exhausted.

"Someone needs to remove that work ethic of yours, chibi," Yohji mumbled, suddenly serious.

Omi grinned at him and shook his head. "You're such a bad influence, Yotan," he said.

Yohji couldn't help but to return the grin.

"So?" Omi juggled a hot muffin between his hands for a moment before finally tearing off a piece and popping it into his mouth. His intelligent blue eyes were curious, inquisitive. "How did it go with Aya last night?"

"Excuse me?" Yohji feigned shock.

Omi rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean! His injuries! He obviously didn't kill you…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know – what a damned shame, eh?"

"Did he let you help him or not?" he pressed.

"Oooh, you mean his wounds? Yeah, yeah, of course – these pretty looks aren't just for show. I've got charm to boot. I just fluttered my eyelashes and he let me patch him up just fine. Man can be damned pleasant when he wants to be. A little free with his hands, though, if you know what I mean."

"Yotan be serious!"

"He's _fine, _okay? Dr. Yotan took terrific care of him. My bedside manner is beyond compare."

"I'll go check on him later," Omi decided, eyeing him warily.

"Don't you trust me? Look – I'm sorry. I'll check up on him, okay?"

Omi simply looked at him, eyes flat and suspicious.

Yohji raised his hands defensively. "Nothing funny!" he assured him. "It's just…he's my patient, isn't he? So you take care of Kenken, and I'll be responsible for almighty leader. Maybe I can even convince him to let the docs remove that stick he keeps up his ass."

Omi still looked unconvinced. "Yotan…"

"Great. So we're agreed." Yohji rose from his chair and refilled his coffee cup. After a few moments' thought, he took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with milk.

"Where are you going?" Omi asked with resignation as Yohji tried to juggle the coffee, milk, and plate all at once.

"I thought we just had this conversation. I'm going to check on my patient." Yohji frowned at the various dishes he carried and silently ordered them not to fall from his grasp as he began to head for the stairs. "I'm assuming he's up and out of bed already, knowing Mr. Doesn't-know-when-to-quit. Man needs to eat, right?"

"Yes, but…"

"When's the last time you saw that bastard eat breakfast? Dr. Yotan will see to the proper nutrition of his patient."

"Yotan, I'm not so sure about this…"

Yohji ignored him and began to head up the stairs.

He wasn't entirely sure where the idea to volunteer to do 'nurse' duty for Aya had come from, or why, or when it had occurred to him. If all else failed, he would blame the whim on sleep deprivation.

It was just that…it was impossible to forget what he had seen last night. Aya was their leader – he was cold, short-tempered, violent, and rude. He was also incredibly fragile. The difference was impossible for the blonde's inquisitive mind to ignore. It was _interesting_, and he wanted to explore it further. He had spent too many years making his living off of seeking out others most closely guarded secrets – his instincts would simply not allow him to let go of something so strange and surprising as the realization that Aya Fujimiya was, indeed, human.

He found Aya's door at the end of the hallway closed, but, fortunately, unlocked. Somehow Yohji managed to get it open without spilling anything.

The bed was empty, and neatly made. The bathroom door was closed, and Yohji could faintly make out the sound of the shower running.

So, then, the oh-so-very friendly leader of Weiss hadn't left the house yet this morning. Yohji crossed the room and set his breakfast dishes down on the bedside table. He then moved to the window and opened the shades to let the early morning light spill into the dreary room. After a moments thought, he went ahead and opened the window a little, relieving the stuffiness with some fresh air.

He was just sitting down on the bed when the bathroom door opened. Aya clad only in a towel, stopped short at the sight of him invading his room. His eyes darted to the window, then to the still-open door, before fixing on Yohji once again. For just a moment, his usual blank expression had been replaced by one of surprise.

But, quickly, _that_ expression was replaced by plain annoyance.

"What the hell do you want?"

The ice in that voice could freeze over hell. Yohji forced a smile, and hoped with every fiber of his being that he looked even the slightest bit as if he were confident in his own actions.

"Is that just how you're going to greet me from now on?" he asked as lightly as possible. "Don't you think 'hello Yohji' takes a hell of a lot less time to say?"

Aya's lips thinned. His eyes narrowed.

Yohji shrugged.

"I came up to check on my patient," he said. "Look – I even brought you breakfast."

Aya glanced at the offering on the table, and his eyes narrowed even further. "I don't," he stated coldly, "Eat breakfast."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt you to try it sometime, would it?" Yohji rose and approached, and was very proud of how steady his legs were as he walked. Aya's expression was unreadable as he watched him, but he didn't move away even as Yohji reached out to examine his bandages.

"They look pretty good today," he decided. A part of him felt bad for Aya. While the slashes hadn't been deep enough to cause any kind of permanent damage, he was sure they were going to prove annoying as hell – not to mention painful, no matter how he moved. A paper cut hurt, and seemed to manage to catch on anything and everything until it healed, and these injuries were far worse than a paper cut. Deeper, longer – and they would take longer to heal, too. Additionally, some had bled an awful lot, making Aya undoubtedly weak from blood loss today. Yohji just hoped he'd done a good job cleaning them. It would be awful if any of them got infected. "Do you want some pain meds?"

"No."

Aya's answer was short, his tone clipped. Yohji would have to build up a resistance to that poison if he planned to continue to annoy the small redhead.

"Do they hurt?"

Silence.

"At least let me help you get dressed or something," Yohji offered. "Every move you make is going to pull at those wounds."

"I can handle it myself."

Yohji looked away from the long slash across the small man's chest and abdomen, and into his leader's frozen face. Standing there, dripping, clothed in nothing but a towel with his wet hair falling into his eyes, he should have looked very helpless.

Instead, he was threatening.

Yohji drew back.

"Well…I better get down to the shop…" he decided, awkward and chilled. "You take it easy today, all right? No doing anything stupid like ripping out your stitches or anything. And eat that breakfast."

The skin around Aya's eyes tightened as he glared.

Yohji decided it was time he make his exit.

* * *

When Yohji's lunch break came around, he entered the kitchen to find the breakfast dishes sitting on the counter near the sink. The milk had been drunk, but only one of the muffins was gone. The coffee didn't look as if it had been touched. It was a testament to how much Aya had to have been hurting that he hadn't washed the dishes after he had finished with them.

"I must be suicidal…" Yohji muttered, as it occurred to him just how stupid his breakfast stunt had probably been. Filled with these dark thoughts, he began to make himself a sandwich. After further thought, he made a second one.

When he entered the study with his lunch, a bottle of water, and a can of beer, he found himself greeted by a dark, suspicious glare almost immediately. Attempting to ignore it, the blonde settled himself casually into a chair and pretended to be completely unaware of the glowering presence of the small red haired man. He set his attention solely on his food, humming a little under his breath and ignoring Aya until he was sure the man had finally turned his eyes back on the book lying open on his lap.

From the corner of his eye he watched his leader stare and stare and stare at the page before him. He wasn't reading – either Yohji being in the room bothered him, or, as the blonde thought to be far more likely, the small man was simply in too much pain to read.

"Did you take something?" the blonde asked at last, carefully casual.

A grunt.

Yohji sighed. "You're only making it worse on yourself, man," he pointed out.

Another grunt.

"All right, fine. Be that way. Stubborn ass." Yohji let silence fall for a while – just long enough for the other man to begin to let his guard down as much as he was able. "Damn!" the blonde said at last, interrupting the silence. "I'm full. Made too much lunch. Take this other sandwich off my hands, will you?"

"Do you think you're clever, Kudoh?"

"Not really, no." Yohji rose from his seat and took the lunch and the bottle of water to Aya, who did nothing but glare at him. "You were a good boy to nibble your breakfast," her said lightly, "But now I need you to eat a little more."

Aya's glare grew even more fierce.

Yohji refused to be moved. Their little staring contest lasted for several moments before, with a snarl, Aya snatched away the offerings. Yohji stood over him, waiting, until he took a small bite. Only then did the blonde consent to returning to his chair.

He didn't sit down a moment too soon, he decided privately. Another few moments of facing that glare and he was sure his knees would have given out.

Aya scared the hell out of him.

There was silence in the room as Yohji watched Aya eat and fought to remain strong in his resolve no matter how the man growled. He swore to himself that he would not leave the room until every last bite of the sandwich was gone.

Aya grimaced suddenly, and turned his glare to his food.

"I don't like pickles," he informed Yohji icily, breaking the silence as he removed the offending slices.

"Sorry. See how helpful communication is? Next time I'll know better."

A displeased grunt was his only response. Aya took a bite, his glare somehow promising Yohji worlds of violence for ever daring to force him to do something as unpleasant as take care of himself. No doubt the man was plotting pain for him, and the blonde knew he had already pushed his luck far beyond the grounds of normal rationality.

But Yohji never really _had_ been very good at knowing how to stop while he was ahead. He offered Aya a sudden, stupid smile.

"Is that why you didn't drink the coffee?" he asked. "I didn't make it right?"

A grunt.

"Well, then, tell me how you like it so I'll know better. Cream? Sugar?"

"I don't like coffee."

Yohji blinked, partially from surprise that he'd gotten an answer at all. "I've seen you drink it before," he said, feeling stupid.

The man looked away. "Only when necessary," he stated gruffly.

The revelation made Yohji grin idiotically. Aya Fujimiya _was_ human. He got tired and needed a little boost every once in a while, just like everyone else. A fierce, warning glare was all that kept him from voicing the thought, though it wasn't enough to banish the grin.

"Okay," he said, "Then what do you like instead?"

Those unusual purple eyes narrowed dangerously, and Yohji did his best to offer a casual shrug.

"As long as I'm your nurse, I'm going to be making sure you eat," he said. He'd decided on this last night, when he'd seen how painfully thin the man really was. It took a lot of effort on his part to keep his voice light in the face of that glare. "If you don't show up for a meal, I'm gonna bring it to you. If you refuse to eat, I'll feed you myself. Don't doubt me – I've never been very good at the whole self-preservation thing." Yohji grinned, but his attempt at humor fell pathetically flat. He let the grin fall away. "Look – you might as well save us both a hell of a lot of trouble and just cooperate."

"Why are you doing this?"

Yohji shrugged again. The tone of the man's voice – angry but also, somehow, lost – convinced him that he had made the right decision. He wouldn't be stupid enough to try to explain himself, though. Not when he barely understood it himself. If Aya could play the stay-silent-and-make-everyone-else-guess game, then Yohji could, too.

Aya stared at him for a moment, then put the sandwich down.

"I'm full," he announced.

Yohji frowned, but the smaller man had eaten roughly half of it, which was certainly better than nothing.

"All right," he agreed, and rose. For just a moment, Aya looked as if he thought the blonde was about to try to force feed him. He found himself laughing a little at the expression of horror. "I'll let you get away with it today – but remember that we're just gonna have to do this all over again at dinner."

Aya lifted his lip in a snarl.

Yohji crossed the room to him, drawing a couple small bottles from his pocket and setting them down next to the small table next to the small man.

"Just one more thing, oh-great-leader," he drawled. "Pain meds and vitamins. I want you to take them."

"No."

"You'll take them or I'll sit on you and _make_ you take them." Yohji promised, advancing. Aya rose from his chair quickly, glaring, but he moved wrong and pulled at his wounds. There was no hiding his sudden hiss of pain.

Yohji shook his head, amazed at the man's incredible stubbornness, and grabbed Aya's hand. He held it open as he popped the tops on the bottles and began shaking pills into it.

"What – you _want_ to be miserable?"

Aya's glare made it clear – what right did _Yohji_ have to talk to _anyone_ about their health? Well, he didn't care if it _did_ make him a hypocrite. What he had seen last night had bothered the hell out of him.

And the reminder of last night, only strengthened his resolve. He met Aya's glare without flinching, and the small redhead, infuriated, put the pills in his mouth, following them with a sip of water.

"Did you really swallow it?" Yohji asked suspiciously.

Aya grunted.

"Good. Because I'll be able to tell if you didn't. These things will knock you out pretty quickly if you aren't used to them – so I can some back to check on you in about twenty minutes, and tell if they're working or not."

Aya again lifted the bottle of water to his lips.

This time he _did_ swallow the pills.

Yohji shook his head.

"Figures _I'd_ have to play nursemaid to the difficult one," he grumbled. "Omi says Kenken actually _likes_ taking _his_ pills."

Aya only glared.

* * *

Yohji took his time in the kitchen washing the breakfast and lunch dishes. The shop hadn't been too busy when he'd left it, and anyway, he knew that Omi would forgive him for taking a long lunch once he realized what Yohji had been doing with the extra time he had taken. Being responsible with his patient was something not even Omi could fuss about.

Of course, Yohji gave himself the time to finish his beer and have a cigarette, too, but the kid didn't need to know that.

Once everything in the kitchen was taken care of, the blonde headed back up to the study.

He found Aya in the chair where he had left him, though his book had fallen to the floor. The water bottle, now empty, had also fallen.

And Aya was completely, obliviously, asleep.

Yohji shook his head in amusement and moved to the chair, knowing full well that he was about to do something that could potentially get him into a lot of trouble with the small, dangerous man.

Aya would be in a hell of a lot worse pain though, he reasoned, if he was allowed to sleep in that chair.

* * *

"Where's Omi?"

Yohji looked up, somewhat surprised to find Aya standing in the kitchen doorway. He was rumpled from sleep and obviously still a little foggy from the drugs. Yohji wondered if the dose he had given him had been a little strong for his small body, or if he had just _needed_ more sleep than he usually allowed himself – he had been completely _out_ for hours.

"Feeling any better?" Yohji asked, wondering if he was about to receive a blade to the jugular. Aya certainly didn't _look_ very happy.

Aya didn't answer other than to glare.

"Omi's upstairs," Yohji informed him, turning his attention back to his dinner. "Ken can't come downstairs yet and the chibi didn't want him eating alone. And since it was Kenken's night to cook dinner, we just got takeout. You want me to fix a plate for you?"

Another glare.

Yohji only shrugged.

"Just as long as you eat."

Careful not to get caught, he watched the other man put food on his plate. It wasn't a lot of food, but it was enough to keep Yohji from jumping up to 'help' him.

Aya was still glaring as he sat down.

"What?" Yohji asked.

Aya glowered a moment longer, nearly hesitating, before speaking.

"You carried me to bed, didn't you?"

Yohji blinked innocently. "Whatever do you mean?"

The glare sharpened dangerously. "I fell asleep in the chair, and woke in bed," he stated. "You did that, didn't you?"

"Those must've been some really creative dreams you had," the blonde quipped, ignoring the glare as best as he could. "Do I have cause for concern? I mean, if you've started to fantasize about me…"

Aya's glare grew even more fierce, and it took all of Yohji's control not to break down and beg for mercy. He wondered how someone so small had ever become so frightening. It felt like a very long time before the redhead gave a dismissive snort and looked away at last, beginning to pick at his food.

Only when he was sure the man's attention was diverted did Yohji allow himself a small smile.

A smile which he was very careful not to let Aya see.

* * *

tbc

response to unsigned reviews:

Caitlebug - (grins) I'll try.

Tigermink - Basically, he's the active field leader, and acts as such even in the cannon - why is why so many writers treat him as the leader. Although Omi does, technically, have higher rank (and is the only one, I think, to make reports to their employers) he rarely uses it (my theory: he's still young and learning and few would take him seriously at t stage, anyway.) Ack! I had a much more eloquent response, but my time is almost up. Anyway, that's the quick explanation for the plot choice. Thanks for reading - and thanks for the question.


	3. Chapter 3

So many thanks to everyone who's been reading. Even more to everyone who's reviewed so far.

* * *

Yohji stood outside Aya's door for several long moments before he managed to convince himself that he should go in.

His actions lately were already pushing his luck. Surely attempting to repeat those stupid-to-the-point-of-suicidal actions would be sheer insanity.

Yohji opened the door and went inside.

He found Aya sitting in a chair near the window, reading a thick and old-looking book. The small redhead looked up at Yohji's entrance, face expressionless. He had probably been expecting him.

Was that expectation made out of annoyance and wary resignation? Probably.

"Mornin' sunshine!" Yohji greeted cheerfully.

Aya only grunted, his eyes fixed in suspicion on the tray the blonde had carried in.

Yohji grinned. "I asked Omi what you likes," he said, proud of himself, "So now you don't have an excuse for not eating everything on the plate."

He made a noise of displeasure as he set his book aside and rose, crossing to take the tray from Yohji.

"You can go now," he stated when the blonde only continued to grin at him.

Yohji drew Aya's medicine from a pocket and showed the bottle to him, rattling the pills inside.

"I don't want those."

"I have a deal for you," Yohji flopped down on the bed and continued to grin at the now-glaring redhead.

"I don't make deals."

"You take all the pills Omi gave me for you – all the pain meds, all the vitamins – until they're gone, and then I won't make you get a refill."

Aya's only answer was silence – thick, annoyed, dangerous silence.

"Or," Yohji shrugged, "We can fight about it every day."

Aya grabbed away the bottle.

"Damn," Yohji grinned. "I was looking forward to sitting on you."

"Go away."

"Oh, I'm about to, I promise. In fact, I'm about to head in for that pesky physical, so you should be Kudoh-free for the rest of the morning."

"Good."

"Come on, don't be mean! I know you'll be lonely, but console yourself with this: I'll be back by lunch time."

"Kudoh."

Yohji stopped on his way to the door, turning to glance back at the swordsman. Aya was staring at his tray of breakfast as if he had no idea what it was.

"When you bring lunch…" he hesitated.

"Yeah?"

"You might as well bring your own as well."

Yohji stared. It took him several moment for it to even sink in that the man had just invited him to eat with him.

"Yeah," he said at last. "All right. See you then."

* * *

It had taken Yohji a long time to find Aya when it came time for lunch. He'd looked in the redhead's bedroom, in the study, in the kitchen, all to no avail. When he at last found him, the man was in the basement. Aya was hard at work on the computer, going through the data from their last mission, and didn't even look up when the blonde came tromping down the stairs.

Yohji had stopped on his way home from the doctors and gotten their meal from a little restaurant down the street from the shop that he thought he remembered Aya liking. The man ate there often, anyway, and when Yohji had attempted to describe him to the girl behind the counter, she'd cheerfully rung him up for "the usual."

"Working?" he asked, alerting Aya to his presence.

Though he had seemed completely engrossed in his work, the redhead didn't give any indication if Yohji had surprised him. He simply grunted, and didn't even pause in his work when he answered, "Helping Omi."

"Did you never learn how to milk it, man? You're injured – you should play that for all its worth and enjoy the time off!"

The answering snort may have been amused.

Aya stood up from the computer to take the food, and then returned to work. Yohji sat on the couch, spreading out his portion of the lunch on the coffee table, and tried his hardest to get the man to talk.

* * *

"Got something for you, Yotan!"

"Where'd this come from?" Yohji asked, looking at the thick envelope the youngest Weiss had dropped into his lap.

"They had it ready, so they just sent it with me when I left the doctor's office. Ken, yours wasn't ready yet, but I've got Ayan's, too."

"Test results?" disappointed that it wasn't something more entertaining, he tossed the envelope, unopened, on the coffee table and went back to watching television.

Omi's eyes widened. "You're not going to read it?"

Yohji shrugged. He had ceased caring about his test results years ago. "Think about what we do for a living, chibi," he said. "You really think that if there _was_ something wrong with me, it would have _time_ to kill me? One of these days I'm not gonna come back from a mission. Hazard of the trade. The end."

"Stop it, Yotan!" Omi grabbed up the envelope and opened it quickly, scanning the letter it contained with wide, worried eyes. He actually heaved a sigh of relief as he finished. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"Awww. That's sweet, chibi. Now move outta the way – I can't see the tv."

With a frustrated sound, the younger boy forcefully pushed Yohji's feet off the coffee table. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" he demanded. "You smoke too much, drink too much, and have sex with anything that moves! You should be crawling with nine kinds of deadly right now, and you're not!"

"What do you want, Omi?" he sighed.

The younger blonde threw up his arms with a cry of frustration, and Yohji chuckled as he stormed from the room.

"He's such a drama queen," Ken, beside him, sighed – the first words he had spoken since the game they were watching had started. His team was losing, and that always made him sulk.

"He's just trying to be a good mommy."

Ken made a noise that sounded like something between amusement and annoyance. He tried to take a sip from his soda, and scowled when he realized that the can was empty.

"Hey, go get us some more snacks."

"Yeah. Okay." Yohji rolled his eyes. "I'll get right on that."

"I can't do it myself!" the brunette pointed out.

"So _sad_, Kenken!"

"I'll tell Omi."

"He doesn't care me."

"Yohji!"

"What? It'll do you good to start moving around more," he said. "Aya's already trying to get back to work, you know."

"I'd be worried if he wasn't. Go get snacks, Yohji. Please?"

"That pouting's not gonna work on me, you dork. Only Omi can pull that off."

"Then why won't you look at me?"

"I'm watching the game. I've got money riding on this."

"We didn't bet money – we bet chores."

"As good as money."

"Yohji!"

"All right, _fine_!" Yohji growled in frustration, rising. "Just stop your bitching, already!"

"Don't forget the corn chips."

"You better watch your back, man. That's all I gotta say."

Yohji waited until he reached the kitchen to smirk, and he made sure to take his time as he fixed the snacks. He knew that the longer he took, the more Ken would dwell on his parting words, and the more he would begin to worry that he had actually meant the threat.

And the longer Yohji took before making good on the threat, the _worse_ Ken would suspect he _had_ meant it. In a week, the athlete would be a frightened, jittery mess.

"Too easy," he sing-songed to himself.

Yohji made sure he was grinning and humming as he returned to the couch. Ken gave him a suspicious glance, then looked quickly back at the screen.

It wasn't until after he had sat down that Yohji noticed Aya. The man must have come into the room while Yohji had been in the kitchen, and from where he was, sitting in the oversized recliner with his back to the door, he hadn't been immediately visible until Yohji had moved further into the room.

The man was dressed in a cream colored sweater and a pair of jeans and was curled up in the chair looking very comfortable. Had he been anyone else, Yohji would have described him as 'cuddly'.

And his razor-sharp attention was riveted squarely on a letter in his hands. It took Yohji a moment to realize what it was.

"I think you're a little confused, there, Aya – those're _my_ results."

He only grunted. In all actuality, he had every right to read _any_ of their medical reports – in order to know who was physically fit for active duty, and who needed to stay on the sidelines. Since he had come to them, though, Yohji had never once seen him show even the slightest interest. He expected his team to be responsible enough to judge for themselves whether or not they should participate in missions.

Still, none of that mattered to Yohji.

"That's an invasion of privacy, man."

Another grunt. Aya turned the page and continued to read and Yohji could only sulk. The room was silent but for the television for a very long time.

* * *

Yohji yawned and stretched, hands moving to the small of his back as his eyes scanned the shop.

"What's the point in even being open this early when there aren't ever any customers?" he sighed at last.

Omi cast him a warning look, but otherwise ignored him. Yohji knew the youngest Weiss had been sweeping that same spot on the floor for at least half an hour. The kid had to know that Yohji had a valid point.

"Quit your whining!" Ken snapped. The athlete had spent the last couple days in the shop, sitting near the door and making a nuisance of himself. He claimed that his leg still hurt too much for him to do any work, but Yohji had caught the other assassin running up the stairs yesterday.

He was saving that information for a time when it would prove profitable.

Yohji sighed again, raking his hand back through his hair, and moved out from behind the counter.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I think you can manage to watch the register for a few minutes, Kenken," he drawled.

Aya only glanced at him for long enough to glare when he approached his work bench. As usual, the small redhead had been working quietly and diligently all morning without pause. He would soon have all of the day's arrangements finished, and then, rather then slouch off like any normal person would, he would find something else productive to do.

Overworker. It would have been more annoying if the result wasn't less work for Yohji to do.

The blonde leaned back and rested his rear against the edge of the table as he reached for the list of Aya's arrangements. He raised an eyebrow as he realized that the man was closer to being finished than he'd realized.

"How're the wounds?" he asked.

Aya grunted.

"I think we can take the stitches out tonight, if you want."

Aya paused for only a fraction of a moment before giving a small, curt nod. He rolled his eyes upwards again to look at Yohji again only when he realized that he had made no move to leave.

"What the hell do you want?" he demanded.

Grinning, Yohji raised an eyebrow.

Aya sighed.

"_Hello_, Yohji," he ground out at last.

"There!" he cheered. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"What the hell do you want?"

"Two steps forward and three steps back," Yohji sighed. "You're using the wrong ribbon for that one, by the way."

"I don't need your help."

"Whatever."

Aya glanced at him, then snatched away the order list. His eyes scanned the page critically for a moment before it was his turn to sigh again. Yohji thought he heard the small man utter a soft curse under his breath.

Aya rose, hand going to his shop apron.

"Aya?" Omi asked, glancing at them from across the shop.

"Have to run to the store," the redhead explained coolly, moving to hang the apron on its peg.

"But…"

"We aren't busy."

"I'm going with him!" Yohji decided impulsively, ripping off his own apron. He only shrugged when Aya shot him a glare. "Nothing funny, _Ayan_, but I wanna get the hell outta the shop for a while," he hissed, too low for their teammates to overhear. "That okay with you?"

Aya stared at him for a long moment before snorting and giving a sharp nod.

"Kudoh's coming with me," he announced, shrugging on his jacket.

Omi only sighed.

The brisk fall air hit him as he stepped outside and waited for Aya, and Yohji found himself reflecting that soon he would have to trade his favorite midriff-bearing tops for his almost equally favorite skin-tight sweaters. Aya came to join him outside at last, and spared him an annoyed grunt as Yohji fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"Your car or mine?" the blonde drawled lazily.

"We're walking."

"What?"

"Store's only a few miles away. If you're going to whine about it, go back inside."

"But…"

"You're the one who wanted to get out."

Aya didn't wait for further argument. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he began to walk.

Yohji followed gloomily.

"Aya?"

"Don't talk to me."

"You're an ass."

Another grunt.

It may have been amused.

* * *

The bored-looking boy behind the counter at the craft store gave them an odd look as they approached to make their purchase. Yohji had to admit that it probably _was_ a little strange – two men stocking up on several reels of brightly colored ribbon. He shot a grin at the shop boy, _itching_ to tease him.

Of course, Aya would most likely murder him if he tried.

If he _caught_ him, that is.

Yohji glanced at the man at his side, then back to the shop boy. He let his grin grow larger and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

The boy paled.

His voice even shook a little as he told them the total for their purchase – and the shaking only got worse when Yohji licked his lips as Aya reached for his wallet. When the redhead found it and moved to pay, he shifted so that he was standing behind him, and began making suggestive gestures.

The boy practically threw the receipt at them.

On their way out, Yohji winked at him and blew a kiss.

They were three stores away before Aya stopped and rounded on him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

Yohji blinked.

"You know, you're beginning to sound like a broken record," he said. "'What the hell are you doing,' 'What the hell do you want,' 'What - ?'" he cut off abruptly as Aya's hand lashed out, fingers closing around his wrist with bruising intensity.

"The guy behind the counter," Aya ground out, ignoring the attention they were earning from passerby.

"I was…only giving him a hard time. That's all."

Aya glared a moment longer before releasing him with a shove. He began to walk once more and Yohji, carefully, followed.

"How did you - ?"

"I could see your reflection in the window. Dumbass."

Silence passed for a few long moments.

"Don't you have any sense of humor?" Yohji demanded at last. "It was funny."

A grunt.

"Come on," he wheedled. "You know that you have to admit that we must have looked kind of funny to him. And the fact that we're walking back to a flower shop? I mean, we might as well, I dunno, be skipping and holding hands."

"Are you homophobic, Kudoh?"

"No, but…"

"But it was funny?"

"Well…yeah."

"Maybe you should shut up. Ignorance is one thing – but being an ass simply for the sake of it is inexcusable."

"Lighten up. It was a joke."

"Yet neither of us is laughing."

"Okay! Let it drop, all right?"

An annoyed grunt was his only answer, and they were silent for several long moments.

"I'm not homophobic, okay?" Yohji demanded at last. "I mean, hell, I've partied with men a few times – I don't have a problem with it. But that guy was so uncomfortable…I just _had_ to tease him!"

Another grunt.

"What? So now you're just not going to talk to me anymore?"

"_When_," Aya demanded, "Have I ever _willingly_ spoken to you?"

They were almost back to the flower shop before Yohji realized that that _might_ have been a joke.

* * *

tbc

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

Siagii – thanks! I hope you continue to enjoy it.

JB – I have no idea, but I love the thought of it, and couldn't resist trying it out. Thanks!

shiratorikae - hm. I'm not sure if that was a "this is a bad thing" or a "this is a funny thing". Anyway, thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

"Son of a bitch!"

That _bastard_! That _fucking_ bastard!

"Had to go and grab me, didn't he?" he demanded of his reflection, staring at the bracelet of purple bruises left from his 'conversation' earlier with the other man. He had hoped to get a few more nights in his favorite scanty shirts in before it got too cold, but bare arms made it far too obvious that he had recently been manhandled.

_Aya_.

The _asshole_.

Growling under his breath, Yohji ripped open a dresser drawer and began to tear through it, looking for a way to hide the bruising. His long sleeved shirts were still packed up in the attic, damn it, and if he got caught going up to get them, he would get roped into helping the others bring down their shit, too. He didn't have the _energy_ tonight for the kind of club where the bruises wouldn't attract attention, nor for the kind where long gloves were an acceptable fashion accessory.

"Damn it, Aya…" reluctantly, he traded his sleeveless, cropped mesh for a long sleeved button-down – one of the few he kept no matter what time of the year. To make up for the change, he only buttoned two of the buttons. It was _nearly_ as sexy as the other had been, he thought, but if he failed to get any action tonight, he was going to make Aya _pay_.

He supposed he was just lucky he had noticed the bruises before he'd left the house.

A final glance in the mirror, and he was on his way out the door. Annoyance at Weiss's small, stubborn field leader caused the ever-contrary blonde to set all of his favorite self-destructive tendencies on high.

* * *

Vaguely he noticed the sound of a voice, somewhere downstairs, calling his name. Breakfast, or some other shit like that. Yohji buried his head further into his pillow, hangover pouring into his head at that tiny bit of wakefulness. He groaned, and the warm body next to him shifted closer.

He knew he would never be able to go back to sleep, but damn it if he wasn't going to stay in bed with his eyes closed for as long as possible.

It had been a long while since he had partied as vigorously as he had last night. Contrary to popular belief among his team, Yohji wasn't so selfishly blind as to put a good time ahead of duty. He never went out while they were working on a mission, and never got too terribly trashed when he knew he had an early shift the next morning.

But today was Monday, and Omi had at last agreed to let them open a little later – as he would be in school and they were never busy in the early morning anyway. Yohji wished the younger man would have made the decision three weeks ago and spared him all of those along hours alone in the shop.

Annoyance at Aya had caused Yohji to party a little more enthusiastically than he had in _years_. Now, with his head pounding and his limbs weak, he wasn't sure his little act of defiance had really been worth it, after all.

He couldn't even remember if the sex had been any good.

Omi called his name again, and Yohji cursed, hiding his aching head under the pillow.

He was very nearly expecting it when the door burst open with a loud noise. He could feel his bed partner, beside him, sit up quickly, and pitied her for being stupid enough to acknowledge the annoyance.

"Get your shit and get out."

Yohji groaned at the sound of Aya's voice. Why in _hell_ did it have to be _him_? He was going to scare the shit out of whoever-the-hell he'd brought home last night.

Yohji reluctantly pulled his head out from under the pillow and sat up, shooting the red haired man an annoyed glare.

"Geez, _mom_! Haven't you ever heard of _knocking_?"

Violently violet eyes fixed on him and Yohji fought the sudden, unfamiliar urge to cover up. Instead, stubbornly, he stretched his arms up above his head and arched his back, knowing how the early morning sunlight made his golden skin glow. He could feel the other man's eyes on him, and smirked as he settled himself into a languorous slouch.

His bed partner was staring at him, too. She stood in the middle of the room – having been frightened out of bed by Aya – and was clutching her clothes to her naked chest as her eyes shifted from him to Aya and back again. Yohji was glad to see that, at the very least, she was pretty. Large breasts, thin waist. That pretty spill of red curls falling down her back was definitely _not_ natural, though.

Still. A pity he didn't remember much about the sex.

Aya followed his gaze and, rather than appreciate the sight of a mostly-naked woman, began to glare.

"_Out_!" he told the girl.

Her hands shook as she pulled on her shirt, as she squirmed back into her tiny skirt. The rest of her clothing in hand, she fled.

Aya waited until she was completely gone before turning his glare on Yohji.

"Rude to just shove her out like that," the blonde yawned, stretching again to display his body to the optimum degree. "Omi usually feeds them breakfast, you know."

The skin around Aya's eyes grew tight. "Kudoh," he said, voice oddly pleasant, "Consider yourself grounded."

The blonde blinked.

"What?"

"You aren't allowed to go out anymore."

"Not…? I'm a grown man, dickwad! You can't fucking _ground_ me!"

"Cooperate, or I'll bring Krittiker into this," Aya informed him coldly, crossing his arms. "You can't bring women back here – it's too dangerous. We're _assassins_, in case you've forgotten."

"I didn't let her into the basement!"

"No women, no clubbing. You don't leave this building unless it's for a mission."

"You _can't_ just - !"

"I'm taking away your alcohol and cigarettes, as well."

"_What_?"

A ghost of a smile crossed that cold face. "You lectured me on taking care of my body," he said. "Now it's your turn. 'Dickwad'."

"_Bastard!"_

A slim eyebrow rose. Was the bastard _enjoying_ this?

"How long is this fun-ban supposed to last?" Yohji demanded, shoving a hand through his hair.

Aya didn't blink. Didn't hesitate. He _did_ smile.

"Indefinitely."

They stared at each other for several long moments. It was Aya's own violet orbs that looked away first, raking down Yohji's body in one quick glance before he turned away and began to leave the room.

"You better be wearing clothes the next time I see you, Kudoh," he stated, "Or you'll find yourself suffering your house arrest _sans_ a few choice body parts."

He left. The door slammed closed behind him.

Yohji let out a scream of rage.

He thought he heard a laugh from the hallway.

* * *

"It's not a difficult concept, chibi. You buy me contraband, I pay you back with whatever you need. _Whatever_ you need – you get me?"

The smallest Weiss heaved an irritated sigh as he realized that Yohji was not going to allow himself to be ignored. Omi looked up from his computer with what may very well one day prove to be a very scary glare.

"_No_, Yohji."

"Why?" he whimpered. "Come on – don't be like this!"

"Like what? Yohji, I am _not_ risking my hide helping _you_ destroy yourself!"

"It's not a risk!"

"You didn't hear the things Aya said he'd do to us if we helped you!" the younger man mumbled, rolling his eyes as he turned his attention back to his computer.

"Omi!"

"No."

"I'm _dying_!"

"Like _I'd_ be dying if Ayan caught me helping you?"

"He wouldn't kill you! You're cute and squishy. Look at me! He wouldn't even hesitate to leave _me_ a very, very bloody smear on the wall!"

"We need to repaint in here anyway."

"_Omi!_"

"No. Yotan, I'm sorry, but I think this is good for you, anyway. I'd rather watch Aya kill you than let you do it to yourself any day."

"Since when are you on _his_ side?" Yohji demanded, throwing up his hands and storming from the room.

"I _am_ on your side, Yohji!" Omi called after him.

Yohji shot him the bird.

* * *

"Ken…"

"No."

"Ken…"

"Get your ass away from the screen."

"Ken, I'm _dying_."

"Then can I have your stereo?"

"_Ken_!"

"Fuck of, man."

"I _know_ your leg's not as bad as you've been pretending…wouldn't it be a _shame_ if that got out?"

"Not going to work."

"Ken…"

"Tell Aya. Go ahead. I'd rather be in trouble for skipping a little work than for helping you feed your bad habits."

"Fuck you. You totally suck."

"Fine. Now get your ass away from the screen."

* * *

With a bored sigh, Yohji finished counting the register and put the remainder of the day's profits into the deposit bag.

"You wanna take this to the bank for me, chibi?"

The youngest Weiss swept the rest of the trash pile out the door before giving Yohji a smile. "Sure, Yotan!" he answered cheerfully.

The blonde made sure he turned away before cringing. The younger man's normally happy personality was damned annoying when Yohji didn't have enough nicotine in his system. The damn kis was actually _humming_ as he came to take the deposit.

"Use the back door when you come back," Ken, who had at last been forced to return to work – in no small part due to Yohji's need for some kind of revenge – advised. "I'm going to go ahead and lock up for the night."

"Okay!"

Yohji rolled his eyes.

"Kudoh."

He gave a guilty jump, sure he had been caught, and glanced at Aya.

"I'm going to go pick up dinner," the cold man informed him. "Do you want to come help me?"

"Hm. Stay here and mop the floor, or tag along to carry the bags for you. Gee."

"Fine. If you don't want to go, say so. Don't be an ass."

"No, no! I want to go. You kidding me? You've kept me locked up in this place for two damned weeks!"

"Don't make me regret inviting you."

* * *

"Walking. _Of course_ it had to be walking." Yohji tucked his hands behind his head, knowing that doing so would tug his shirt up and expose his flat, tanned belly. He grinned brazenly at a group of giggling schoolgirls they passed waiting for a bus. "You don't like to do anything the easy way, do you?"

He was surprised as Aya actually chose to answer him.

"No," the smaller man said quietly. "I don't."

Yohji couldn't help but to give a small laugh.

Aya stopped and so Yohji did, too. They stood together in the middle of the sidewalk, the flow of foot traffic parting and flowing around them like water in the dimming light. Aya stood staring at Yohji, expression unreadable. Yohji alternated between watching the crowd and reluctantly, awkwardly, meeting that unsettling gaze.

"We're going to get trampled if we stay here," Yohji said at last, after being struck by the briefcase of a passing businessman. "What's wrong?"

With a sigh and a glare, Aya drew a pack of Yohji's favorite brand of cigarettes out of his pocket and held them out to him.

"I don't approve of your habits," he stated coldly, "And I'm tempted to order you to quit. But you're a grown man and should be permitted to make your own decisions. However stupid they are."

Cautiously, Yohji took the pack from him. "You serious?" he asked.

A tight nod. Aya began to walk again. They were silent for a block or two.

"I've been thinking about cutting back a little, anyway," Yohji said at last.

"I think that would be a good idea."

"I'm allowed to drink again, too, right?"

A reluctant grunt to the affirmative. "But you still aren't allowed to bring women home," Aya stated.

"Fair enough. You know, I missed these little chats of ours while I was in the doghouse."

"Chats?"

"Yeah. Our chats. Me jabbering, you tolerating me. It's nice.:

Another grunt. "You're weird."

They reached the restaurant the group had agreed on, and Yohji held open the door for Aya, who passed by him with a thoughtful look on his face.

"We have a call-in order," he informed the girl behind the counter. "Number thirty-seven, Fujimiya?"

"Yes, right here!" she smiled, telling him the total. Aya paid without blinking, and accepted one of the bags. Yohji took the other two without being prompted.

"Why don't you date men?" Aya questioned as they stepped outside.

Yohji stumbled a step, caught off guard by the sudden and completely random query.

"What?"

"You told me you had been with men before. Well? Why is it you only date women?"

"What in the world brought that question on? Random much?"

"You said you liked our 'chats'."

"Ass."

"Well?"

"Do we _have_ to have this conversation in a public place?"

Aya tilted his head to look at him. "Would you rather we were alone?" he asked.

No, Yohji decided, he most certainly would _not_.

"I don't know!" the blonde said at last, giving a helpless shrug as they began to walk again. "I guess, maybe if I wanted something serious, I _would_ look for a man. But if I'm just trying to have a good time, women are easier." He doubted he would _ever_ be able to be serious about a woman again, not after Asuka, but Aya didn't need to know that.

"Why?"

"Nosy son of a bitch, aren't you?" Yohji shoved his hands deeply into his pockets, uncomfortable with the whole conversation. "Most guys I meet at clubs assume that I want to…ah…take the submissive role. Because of the way I look."

"And you don't like that?" Aya asked, completely serious.

The first _real_ conversation they'd ever had, and it had to be about _this_. Yohji groaned.

"Not really, no – as if it's any of your damn business," he answered, frustrated that the man wouldn't let the subject drop.

"I find it hard to believe you can only meet men who like it on top."

"Club uke's are bitches," he said dismissively. "I don't put up with that in women – why the hell would I put up with it in a man?"

"But - "

"And what about you, 'Ayan'?" he countered, annoyed. "What do you like – boys, or girls?"

Grunting, Aya let the subject drop.

* * *

tbc

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

CaT70 - Hm. I think I can live with that decision. (grins) I don't know why their dynamic fascinates me so much, but trust me, I doubt I'll ever get tired of playing with them. I'm so happy you're enjoying it!

glinwulf - Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

"Why don't you date, Aya?"

A moment of stillness. Slowly a pair of dangerous, violently violet eyes rolled upwards from the arrangement the pale redhead was working on. The glare was frightening – threatening a degree of bloodshed sure to prove painful, deadly, and somewhat uncomfortable.

There had been a time, not so very long ago, when receiving that Look would have shut his mouth, wiped the grin from his lips, and sent him hurrying from the room as quickly as hid trembling legs would allow.

But Yohji had been making annoying Aya a hobby for a while now – and in that course of time had received that Look, and many others like it, countless times. Experience didn't lessen the degree of fear his glare could inspire – not by any means – but it did allow Yohji to build up some small degree of immunity to it. Enough, at the very least, that he could and did resist the urge to flee, no matter how scary the other man got.

No matter how Aya glared and snarled and hissed, Yohji was beginning to suspect that the younger man was becoming…if not exactly _fond_, then at least _tolerant of_ his company.

Yohji remained where he was, perched on the edge of Aya's worktable, a grin plastered on his face.

"Go away, Kudoh," Aya ordered at last, seeing that body language alone would be insufficient initiative for Yohji to leave.

Instead of abiding by his wishes, the blonde made himself more comfortable atop the table, swinging his heels playfully. Three days since their uncomfortable conversation about why Yohji didn't date men. Yohji thought he might finally be feeling brave enough to force _finishing_ the conversation.

He'd been thinking about it, and decided that he was, in fact, willing to risk having the tables turned on him – as long as it meant getting some information on Aya. The man would be much more pleasant to work with once he got laid, Yohji had decided, and the playboy was intent on doing everything in his power to make sure that happened as soon as possible. That means finding out just _what_, exactly, the smaller man was looking for.

"I asked a question, Aya. Why don't you date?"

"You've met me, haven't you?" he mumbled, attempting to focus on his work and tune out the annoyance that was Yohji Kudoh.

"Yeah. So?"

Aya grunted, ignoring him.

"Aya…"

"You've answered your own question. Go away."

"No. That's no answer at all. You're a young, healthy male. Why don't you ever go out? Everybody needs a little…stress relief."

Aya's head shot up and he glared at Yohji with a flat, I'm-counting-to-ten-before-I-become-violent expression. Yohji could only laugh.

"Yeah – okay," he said, "So you're difficult and stubborn and a _complete_ ass…"

"Thanks."

"But you're also strong, and really pretty for a guy, and…" he trailed off under Aya's glare. Was it his imagination, or had the man's hand tightened on his pruning shears? "Anyway, look – I'm sure we can find _somebody_ out there willing to put up with all your bad traits if it means getting a chance at experiencing some of the good – rare though they may be. But before that can happen, you have to tell me what you like."

"You're…trying to set me up?"

"That's right. Hell if I know why, but I wanna see a smile on that face of yours. Ungrateful bastard that you are, I still don't think this isolation thing is healthy. I can't do a damn thing, though, until you tell me what you're looking for."

Once more Aya's eyes dropped down to his work, although his hands remained motionless.

"Aya?" Yohji asked, after several moments of silence.

"I…don't know."

"You don't know…what you'd want in a partner?"

Silence. Yohji heaved a heavy sigh.

"Let's start small, all right?" he asked at last. "Can you do that? Baby steps. You…you do _want_ to find someone eventually, right? I mean, you're human. You're male. You feel _need_, don't you?"

"That kind of stuff is nothing but a distraction," Aya stated. It sounded like he was repeating something rehearsed. Something he had worked hard to convince himself of.

"But you want it." Yohji pressed.

Aya stared at the half-finished arrangement – silent, dark, unreadable. "Yes," he answered at last, forcing the word out through clenched teeth.

"Great! Admitting it is the first step – and look! You've just proven that you really _are_ human!"

A grunt. Aya was definitely _not_ happy with him at the moment. Yohji couldn't stop a grin.

"Now," he said, rubbing his hands together. "We get to a slightly harder question. What do you like? Body? Hair color? Eyes?"

Aya shook his head, not answering.

"Someone like you, or your complete opposite?"

Silence.

"Occupation? Yearly pay? Beliefs?"

Still, Aya refused to answer. He had closed his eyes and bowed his head, and his hands were balled into tight, white-knuckled fists.

Yohji sighed. "At least answer one question for me, okay?" he asked at last. "_One_ question. Can you do _that_ much?"

A hesitation. A small, reluctant nod. Aya kept his eyes closed.

"Man?" Yohji asked, "Or woman?"

There was silence for several long moments. Yohji sighed again.

"Aya…"

"Man," he whispered.

Yohji drew back, staring at him. He couldn't decide if he was surprised or not. Admitting his preference had clearly been difficult for the small, quiet man, but Yohji refused to feel guilty for bullying him.

At last, Yohji grinned.

"Man it is," he said cheerfully.

* * *

Aya's "grounding" of Yohji had kept the blonde from meeting any new people recently, but luckily he knew of a pair they could easily double date with. Twins as opposite as night and day. Yohji had slept with each of them at one time or another, yet had somehow managed to remain on friendly terms with them both.

The girl, Umeko, was bright, wild, and easy. The perfect pick-me-up after his enforced term of celibacy. Her bubbly personality and weakness for cheap alcohol all but promised Yohji a good time.

Her brother, Yukio, was her polar opposite. Quiet, thoughtful, and challenging – Yohji was pretty sure Aya would enjoy his company.

It was only too easy to set up the date, and according to Umeko, Yukio was looking forward to meeting the new 'friend' Yohji had found for him.

Aya didn't seem anything like enthusiastic – and probably would have found some excuse for wriggling out of the date had Yohji not made sure to pester him about it every waking moment. The blonde was smart enough to realize that Aya would not appreciate him blabbing their plans to their other teammates, so he had been careful about where and how he pestered Aya. Still, he thought that he had gotten the message through quite successfully, thank you.

He would see to it that Aya's life became a living hell if the redhead tried to back out.

Aya seemed to understand this.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?"

Yohji gave a guilty jump, which he hoped was well-hidden by the fact he had the entire front half of his body buried in Aya's closet.

"Are we back to that?" Yohji teased. He was quite proud that his voice managed to come out so light and playful. Despite having his head buried amid the untrendy, unsexy, unstylish graveyard of Aya Fujimiya's clothes, he could hear Aya's loud, much put-upon sigh.

"_Hello_, Yohji," Aya bit out. "What the hell are you doing?"

The blonde at last pulled himself from the closet, woefully empty-handed. "We have less than three hours before we have to leave. I thought I'd help you get ready."

The blank, somewhat confused look in Aya's eyes was almost worth it all.

"What?"

"Well? You don't date. I figured you'd need some help."

He blinked slowly. "What?" he asked again.

"What were you going to wear tonight?" Yohji asked.

Aya blinked at him again then, slowly, spread his arms out at his sides. "This."

Blue jeans – dark, good-as-new, and not even wrinkled. Ugly shoes. And that hideous orange sweater.

"No."

"No?"

"No." Yohji stepped the rest of the way out of Aya's closet. "Come on."

Aya was just off-balance enough that he actually obeyed without comment or hesitation, following Yohji to the blonde's room.

"Sit," Yohji ordered, motioning to the bed.

Aya did, eyes scanning the room with interest. He only stared as Yohji opened his closet and began throwing things out.

"What are you doing?" Aya asked at last.

"Your wardrobe sucks," Yohji answered. "You're wearing something of mine."

"And look like a cheap whore?" Aya demanded, rising angrily.

"Sit back down!"

"Kudoh!"

"I won't make you look like a whore."

"You don't _own_ anything else!"

"Didn't know you were such a funny man, Aya," Yohji mumbled, walking to the bed. He began to sort through the clothes.

"Kudoh."

"Here – start with these."

Aya looked at the clothes he had been handed, then back at Yohji. Slowly, he rose.

Yohji almost shouted when he realized Aya was nonchalantly removing his shirt. Something about it was shocking.

"I'm not walking down the hall wearing _anything_ you own, Kudoh," he glared, ignoring the other man's stare as he tossed his sweater aside and began to unzip his jeans.

Yohji began to shifting through the clothes, fighting the suddenly very-tempting urge to watch Aya changing. He'd gotten enough of a view while treating his wounds for his imagination to let him know _quite_ clearly what a pleasant sight _that_ could be – but he had also known the man long enough to be sure that being caught oogling him would result in imminent castration.

"No," Aya stated suddenly.

Yohji looked up, and instantly understood. The pants were tight when Yohji wore them, and so they _almost_ fit Aya at the waist – but they were far too long on him, and trying to roll up leather would not look good.

"Jeans," Yohji decided, mourning that they would miss out on the sure-to-be luscious sight of Aya in leather. "You'll have to wear jeans."

"I own jeans."

"Not the right kind." Yohji selected a pair and tossed them at Aya. The man sighed and began to change again. This time, Yohji _did_ watch.

Aya glared as he finished, and crossed his arms over his bare chest.

"Still doesn't fit," he stated, almost accusing.

"A good belt, and rolling up the legs a little – it'll be fine!"

"I'm wearing my own clothes."

Yohji attempted a glare. Aya bested him at it.

"Okay, a compromise," Yohji sighed at last, looking away first.

"Compromise?" Aya's tone was suspicious.

"Get dressed. If we hurry, we should be able to get a little done before we need to be there."

"Hurry?"

"We're going shopping."

"How the hell is _shopping_ a compromise?"

* * *

Aya was a vicious, stubborn son of a bitch.

But shopping with him had been surprisingly pleasant. Thrusting him into an unfamiliar situation, forcing him to go into a kind of store he never would have ventured into on his own…those kinds of things made Weiss's strong, bullheaded leader almost _shy_. Aya didn't fight him, didn't argue, didn't glare.

But when they got back into the car to go home, the man _sulked_.

Yohji had never known the small redhead had the capacity to be so…cute.

In any case, both men were dressed and ready to go by the time they needed to leave to pick up the twins. Aya had refused to spend his money on anything leather, but Yohji was responsible enough to respect that different people had different styles – at least, for now. They hadn't had time to argue about it.

Nevertheless, the well-fitted jeans and somewhat clingy blue shirt were much better than any of the junk he had found in the man's closet would have been.

"Are you nervous?" Yohji asked, starting the car.

Aya only glared. He had gone silent about an hour ago, and nothing Yohji had yet tried had managed to break him. Yohji knew he was lucky, that he had just done the impossible. He had Aya Fujimiya attempting a social life. He had Aya Fujimiya _outside_ his comfort zone.

He'd had Aya Fujimiya _shopping_.

The fact that neither of them were dead or, at the very least, bleeding profusely, spoke wonders. He knew how foolish it would be to press his luck at this point.

"You look really good," Yohji told him, turning on his blinker and making a left turn.

Aya didn't act as if he'd even heard him.

"Didn't know you could look so good," he kept his eyes fixed on the road, positive that the man was glaring at him. "I mean, date or no, you're gonna have guys _all_ over you tonight."

No answer. Aya simply turned his attention back to the window.

"You know, Aya…you're going to have to talk tonight." Yohji hesitated, but knew he was already past the point of no return. "You can't be like this all the time. I mean, _I _kinda get it, but these people won't. They don't know you."

"Neither do you."

Yohji didn't know how to respond to that, and so he let silence fall once more.

* * *

tbc

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

CaT70 - I think it's mostly Aya who's awkward. That's one of my secrets for writing him (wink). No, I don't think their OTPness will ever change for me, either. It's hard to explain without sounding crazy, but when I write them, they just...gravitate toward each other natually, without much help from me. I've never really had that happen, except with these two. Anyway, thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

Stupid things ran through Yohji's head when he felt he may be in danger. Sometimes, during a difficult mission, he found himself fixating on things like a pen he had lost in high school, the women who he'd never called back, and that time he scraped his knee when he was twelve.

Sitting in his car, nearly frozen by the stony silence emanating from the seat beside him, Yohji's mind questioned whether or not he'd remembered to turn off his radio before leaving. He wondered about the plant in the back of the shop that he hadn't watered in a week. He pondered the secret sex lives of rocks.

And he considered the increasing likelihood of ending the week with a sword in his gut.

Umeko and Yukio, the twins who Yohji had set up the date with, had agreed to meet them at the video store where Umeko worked. From there, they would proceed to whatever restaurant they all agreed on. Yohji had promised them a fun night – and now had no idea how he'd ever managed to voice such an outright lie. There was no way cold-as-ice Aya Fujimiya was going to be able to unclench for even the smallest moment.

He had clearly used up all his nice points while they had been shopping.

The silence lasted even as Yohji pulled into the video store's parking lot. It was an awkward, angry, almost _hurt_ silence and Yohji, to his own amazement, found himself fighting the urge to apologize.

_I'm sorry I don't know you better_? That was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard of.

"Aya…" he sighed at last, when neither of them moved to exit the vehicle.

"Leave me alone, Kudoh." Aya's voice was frozen but quiet. It was also oddly…disappointed. The man got out of the car and slammed the door closed behind him.

Yohji sighed again, regretted that he had ever decided to try to befriend brick-wall-Fujimiya, and followed.

The last time Yohji had seen Umeko – actually, the reason he had _stopped_ seeing her – she'd cut her hair extremely short, with the sides shaved close to the scalp and dyed lime green. It had grown out since then, he was relieved to see. It now reached her shoulders in a choppy shag style, and was bright pink in color. He noticed that she was also wearing red contacts and had pierced one eyebrow.

Yukio, on the other hand, hadn't changed a bit. His black hair was still cut in a short, professional style, and his wire-rimmed glasses were the same studious frames Yohji remembered. Additionally, he still seemed to possess his unnatural fondness for dress slacks and sweater vests.

"Gotta' love a hot nerd," Yohji muttered under his breath.

Aya shot him a sharp look, which Yohji carefully pretended not to see. He raised his hand to wave at the twins, grinning as if he hadn't a care in the world.

* * *

Yohji was bored out of his mind. They had barely taken their seats at the table in the restaurant when Umeko had spotted some "friends" at the bar and rushed over to visit them, leaving Yohji alone with Aya, the human popsicle, and Yukio, the Most Boring Man in the World.

Yohji remembered Yukio as being rather reserved around strangers, but he wouldn't stop talking now. Chattiness from the bookworm was a more than certain sign that he liked Aya. He was trying to impress him with his knowledge of whatever-the-hell he was talking about.

Yohji had stopped listening the moment the man had mentioned that he was doing research "just for fun."

"English novels," Aya said suddenly, breaking his long silent streak at last and earning both men's attention. "I like to read in other languages," he clarified. His gaze was steady – as if challenging the two of them to question his right to participate in conversation. "The more difficult the challenge, the more satisfying I find it. English is my favorite. The old stuff."

"Hey!" Yohji realized. "I think that's the longest I've ever heard you talk!"

Aya gave him a flat look.

"I don't know much about porn and booze, Kudoh," he stated coolly. "What would I possibly have to talk to _you_ about?"

The blonde gave an uneasy laugh as a large smile spread across Yukio's face. The dark haired man leaned closer toward Aya, his body language clearly displaying his interest.

"Have you read Gower?"

Aya gave a small nod and an even smaller smile. "_Philomene and Tereus_," he stated. He reached for one of the dinner rolls – the first time he'd shown an interest in food all evening. He even picked up his menu as Yukio began to chat at him again.

Narrowing his eyes, Yohji leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, caught by surprise by a strange, unhappy feeling. He didn't care that his date had abandoned him – he had only called the twins because he had thought that Aya and Yukio would hit it off.

Which they had. Aya was being closer to friendly that Yohji had ever seen him.

Which was what Yohji had wanted.

So, why then did his wine suddenly taste like bile, and his stomach rebel at the thought of food?

* * *

For the first time in his life, Yohji Kudoh was _glad_ to see a date end uneventfully. Umeko had gone home with someone else – which spared him from having to think up an excuse for not asking her to spend the night – and Yukio and Aya merely shook hands when saying goodbye.

All Yohji cared about was that the stupid night was over. Now the only trial left was enduring the silent car ride back to the shop with Aya.

"Keys," Aya said after Yukio's car had driven off.

"What?"

The small redhead held his hand out, demanding. "Keys," he said again.

When Yohji failed to get the message a second time, Aya glared. Yohji gave a yelp and attempted to jump back when the small redhead's hand plunged itself deeply into the front pocket of his tight leather pants.

"Hey - !"

Ignoring him, Aya withdrew the keys and began walking past him to the car. Yohji followed dumbly.

"What are you doing?" he managed to demand at last as they reached the car and Aya headed for the driver's side. "It's _my_ - !"

"You drank all night," Aya stated matter-of-factly. He pulled open the door and climbed inside, giving Yohji a flat look as the blonde prevented him from closing the door.

"I'm not drunk!" Yohji argued.

Aya put the keys in the ignition. The dinging that alerted the driver that a door was still open filled the night.

"I'm not drunk!" Yohji insisted again.

"Your blood alcohol level exceeds that permitted by law." Aya stated.

"Law? Fuck the law – did you forget that we kill for a living? Since when does the law matter?"

Aya only looked at him, expression unreadable, and Yohji began to wonder if the redhead existed for the pure purpose of driving him insane. Aya _knew_ that Yohji didn't let anyone drive his car!

"I'm not drunk!" he insisted again.

Aya started the engine.

* * *

"Are you still pouting?" Aya asked – the first words either of them had spoken since leaving the restaurant.

"It's _my_ car," Yohji sulked.

"So you _are_ pouting."

"It's not pouting!"

A moment too late, Yohji noticed the small twist to Aya's lips. He realized that the small, quiet man was _teasing_ him. Feeling stupid and hating it, Yohji turned his attention out the window.

Silence passed for several moments. Aya was turning onto the road that held the shop before he spoke again.

"I did want to thank you for tonight."

Surprised, Yohji looked at Aya.

"Yeah? You had a good time with Yukio?"

"He was…interesting. More, it's just that…I enjoyed being able to get out."

That bitter feeling rose up again. Turning his head away once more, Yohji wondered at why he would suddenly want _Yukio_ again. He'd thought the man boring as hell when they'd dated before, and if he remembered correctly they hadn't exactly clicked in bed. But there was no other explanation for why he was suddenly so unhappy with knowing he'd found a good match for Aya.

"Are you going to see him again?"

Silence. Aya pulled into the driveway behind the shop and turned off the engine. Both men remained in the darkness, sitting together in the quiet, neither giving any indication of moving.

"Do…" Aya's voice was quiet. Hesitant. "Do you think I should?"

Yohji's stomach rebelled at the idea. He thought about Yukio, the "hot nerd," and the sick feelings grew. He remembered his small, cluttered apartment, the way he refused to use salt when cooking breakfast, the banshee-like howls he'd make during sex (causing his neighbors to twice call the cops on them, suspecting violence.) And then he thought about _Aya_ with Yukio. With each thought, he only felt worse.

Did he really want Yukio back?

"If you want to," he said at last. "It's not any business of mine."

Aya unclasped his seat belt and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

tbc

I confess, I have no idea what Aya was talking about at dinner. This fic has been revised several times, and I wrote that scene during literature class several years ago. Gower was one of the things in my book, and I think I had skimmed it and enjoyed it (I don't usually reference things I know nothing about) but now I'm like "Huh?"

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

glinwulf - Yes. Several, several wishes. (grins)

Henna - I'm happy you enjoy my take on Aya. I enjoy sharing him!

CaT70 - (snuggles Awkward!Aya)

JB - Thanks; I'm glad you're liking it. I put some notes for RuroKen at the end of the newest chapter of Fealty, so I hope it helps. Let me know if you have any questions. I'll try to be more responsible about setting things up.


	7. Chapter 7

Wow. Last chapter seemed to have generated a lot of enthusiasm. You don't know how happy the reviews made me. I hope you continue to enjoy.

* * *

Yohji Kudoh was miserable.

Mis-er-a-ble.

"Yotan, get your feet off the table!"

That _bastard_, Aya. It was all _his_ fault. Yukio called him nearly _every_ night. They had gone out _three_ times in the last week. Yohji had even caught them one night sharing a brief, polite kiss goodbye.

They showed absolutely no passion in public.

He bet they were fucking like bunnies in private.

Every time Yohji saw them together, or picked up the phone to hear Yukio's voice, asking to speak to Aya, or saw that Aya had reserved an evening off on the shop schedule for a date, Yohji's misery only grew. There was no reprieve, no mercy, no safe haven. He couldn't even look at Aya again without thinking about the fact the man was dating Yukio.

_Damn _that bastard, Aya!

And damn himself, too, for failing to realize sooner that he was still interested in Yukio.

"Please don't smoke while I'm trying to cook!"

Yohji followed Omi's request without thought, putting his cigarettes away without drawing one. Lost in his darkness, he barely noticed when the cause of his sulking came into the kitchen and sat down across from him. His demeanor was cold, business-like, determined. It was the feel of those violently violet eyes boring into him that finally alerted Yohji to the other man's presence. The blonde rolled his eyes upwards to look at him slowly, questioningly.

"You aren't grounded anymore," the small redhead stated, taking the fact that Yohji was looking at him as the needed indicator that he wasn't being ignored.

"Yeah?" Yohji countered dully, "I knew that."

"You haven't been out since that one time," he accused.

Yohji stared at Aya, but the other man didn't so much as blink in the face of his scrutiny. "You worried or something?" he demanded. "I just have something on my mind, that's all. Don't feel like partying."

"You could come with us."

"You and Yukio? _Why_?"

Aya didn't answer at first. He turned his glare on Omi until the younger man at last caught on and left the kitchen.

"I…don't want to be alone with him," Aya stated at last.

"Who – Omi?"

"Yukio."

Yohji stared at him, a surge of sudden hope rising up within him. "Oh?" he asked, trying his best to sound casual. "I thought you two were hitting it off."

"I've tried, but…I can't see him in anything but a completely platonic manner. He, however, doesn't seem to understand this. I get the feeling…" Aya trailed off hesitantly, looking away. Yohji had never seen him look so…_human_…before. "I would prefer not to be alone with him again," he said at last. "I will let him take me to a bar if you'll come with us. You can pick someone up there, can't you? I need you to come with us. As…as a personal favor."

"You're not interested in Yukio?"

"No."

"And…I'm guessing what you're not saying is that all these weeks of intelligent conversation and absolutely no action has gotten him all horned up. Right? And he's pushing a little strong, and you can't handle it because you're a detached little bastard with absolutely no sex drive. Right?"

Aya pursed his lips into a thin line and glared, refusing to answer.

Yohji found his mood suddenly improving considerably. "Aya," he said with sudden cheer, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder. "I would be _happy_ to help you out."

* * *

Despite Aya's insistence that he didn't care about Yukio (and Yohji had checked – asking him several times throughout the day to make absolutely certain the man wasn't going to change his mind tonight) the small redhead looked absolutely stunning when he came down the stairs, ready for his date.

"You _sure_ you're planning to break up with him?" Yohji demanded when he saw him, jealousy rising like bile in his throat. If he was going to be forced to spend the evening watching Yukio hang all over _Aya_, he'd rather stay home.

The small redhead rolled his eyes upward to look at him, his gaze hard and flat.

"What," he demanded coldly, "Does _that_ mean?"

Yohji crossed his arms. Given the sudden chance to amend his mistake and get Yukio back, the blonde was not in the mood to put up with Aya's icy temper. "You look like a guy trying to _impress_ a lover, not hurt one," he accused. "I just want to make sure you aren't going to go back on what you told me. I'm only going with you tonight on the condition that that you're breaking up with him."

Aya faltered. For a moment, his icy façade almost cracked. "Why?" he asked.

Yohji stared at him, and suddenly realized he couldn't tell him about his sudden, strange desire for Yukio. Suddenly, there seemed something _wrong_ with it.

"Hey – don't question the man doing you a favor!" Yohji scolded at last, grabbing his car keys. "Are you ready to go, or do you want to see if you can find some pants even tighter than those? Maybe we could use paint and just make the _illusion_ of pants."

"You're one to talk," Aya replied coolly, brushing past him.

Yohji's mood improved a little, though he had no idea why. Once again looking forward to seeing Aya break up with Yukio, he followed the slim redhead out the door.

His questioning had pissed Aya off, as he'd have known it would if he had bothered to stop and think about it. The other man refused to speak to him on the ride to the club they had agreed to meet Yukio at, despite the fact that Yohji attempted several apologies as he drove. Aya barely even waited for the car to stop before he got out.

Yukio wasn't there yet, and so Aya's exit lost some of its effectiveness as he was left waiting outside the front door. He gave Yohji a warning look as the blonde approached, and it took all of the taller man's control to keep from teasing him.

* * *

Yohji's opportunity came with better timing than he ever could have hoped for. They had managed to claim a table, and Aya had excused himself to go wash his hands. Yohji at last had Yukio alone, and the way the shorter man was looking at him, he knew his advances would not be discouraged.

"So," he smiled as a server brought the drinks they had ordered. "You and Aya, huh?"

"Well, that's what I'd hoped, but you never really know," Yukio answered with a coy smile. "Gorgeous man, but I've never seen someone play hard to get for so long! I'm honestly beginning to wonder if he has a personality at all."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Well, I suppose you do know him better…but seriously, does the man never smile?"

"He smiles!"

"Intellectually, he's great, but sometimes I need a little more action – you know? And all these weeks of staring at that ass and just getting rebuked for my efforts…kind of makes me wish for someone a little more…carnal…" his hand brushed Yohji's as he reached for his drink, and the blonde resolutely pushed away the urge to defend Aya.

"That's…understandable," he said, giving his most confident, alluring smile. "I mean, you're only human, right? We all have…needs."

"Yeah. That's _exactly_ what I'm talking about."

Yohji didn't have time for the careful flirtation he had planned out. Yukio leaned in quickly to kiss him, needing no more prompting than that, and, for a moment, Yohji was more than happy to let things simply move along.

Then Yukio, hands sliding into Yohji's hair, tried to deepen the kiss. It was too wet, too messy, and his tongue altered between sitting listlessly in his mouth and thrusting deeply enough to almost make him gag.

Yohji felt absolutely nothing – except, maybe, disgust. _This_, he remembered suddenly, was why he had originally broken up with the man in the first place. He pulled away quickly, sacrificing a few strands of hair in the process, and quickly took a sip of his beer in an attempt to relieve himself of the taste of the other man's mouth.

"_That_ was _exactly_ what I've been wanting," Yukio said with a smile.

Yohji returned the smile halfheartedly, turning in his seat to see if he could pick Aya out in the crowd yet. He had never before been so happy to see the man when a group of dancers broke apart to let him through.

"Let's not mention this to Aya, okay, Yukio?" Yohji asked, wondering why he'd been so jealous that Aya had been dating the man.

"A secret?" he grinned. "How exciting!"

Yohji would have to remember to tell his housemates he was screening his phone calls. A few weeks, and Yukio would get the picture. Much easier than the whole mess of a I-can't-stand-you break-up talk.

Aya slid into his chair with his eyes downcast, betraying to Yohji just how much he was dreading his own break-up speech.

Yohji took another sip of his beer, unable to summon any sympathy.

* * *

Yohji resolutely ignored the urge to yawn as he shut off the car and unhooked his seatbelt. Staying out late partying was not nearly so fun when he didn't drink more than two beers.

The thought caused him to glance at Aya, dozing in the passenger seat. Nervous about his talk with Yukio, the small man had accidentally had a little too much to drink and was, amazingly enough, a little tipsy. Respecting Aya's feelings on drinking and driving, Yohji had cut himself off the moment he had realized his teammate was in no shape to drive home for him.

"Aya?" knowing that he was risking life and limb, Yohji reached out to gently shake the smaller man. "Aya? We're home."

The ride back had been just as silent as the ride to the club had been, and Yohji might as well have been alone. Now he was bored, tired, and more than a little disappointed in the way the night had ended.

Aya brushed away Yohji's hand and turned away, pillowing his head against the window. Sighing, Yohji got out of the car and crossed to Aya's side. He kept Aya from falling out of the vehicle as he opened the door, and ignored the glares and hissing curses as he leaned across him to unlatch his seatbelt. He managed to get the smaller man out of the car, and hooked an arm around him as he stumbled.

"Not far to the door, Aya," he informed him as the man began to growl. "Here – lean against me for a second so I can get the key. Wasn't thinking. I put it in my pocket when I got out of the car."

His light chatter did nothing to soothe the slim man in his arms. Aya pushed away from him and backed unsteadily into a wall, using it for support, instead.

Yohji stopped with the key in the lock, staring at the small man. Aya could usually be depended on to be level-headed and responsible, but for whatever reason, tonight the man had made a judgment error and had a little too much to drink. At least, that was what Yohji had first assumed, but as he stared Aya, he felt a rush of fear down his spine.

"Aya?" he asked. He reached out and took the pale redhead's face in his hand, trying to search his eyes in the dim lighting. "You did _just_ drink, right? You didn't…no one _gave_ you anything, right? You didn't take any pills, borrow any pain meds?"

"Not stupid," he muttered, glaring at slapping at his hand.

"Aya, I _really_ need to know. I won't tell, okay? Did you leave your drink lying around for a while?"

Without answering, Aya fell forward against his chest, throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him.

Aya's kiss held the awkwardness of inexperience, but it was as far from unpleasant as possible. There was something surprisingly enticing about the naïveté, the hesitation, the sweetness of it all.

He stared as Aya pulled away, hit the wall, and began sliding down to the ground. Shaking himself out of his surprise, Yohji caught him quickly, awkwardly managing to get the door open despite the limp body in his arms. It was not good how unresisting the small and surprisingly light man was as he carried him inside.

Yohji made a judgment call and headed for the bathroom adjacent to Aya's room. Carefully, he set Aya down in the tub. One last time he tried to check the other man's eyes, tried to force them open. Aya refused to let him, squirming away, cursing him, hissing dangerously.

"Don't kill me for this," Yohji muttered, giving up.

He turned the faucet to cold, and put the shower on full-blast. Aya shouted, tried to get up, and slid back down – almost hitting his head on the tile along the way. Yohji sent up a silent prayer that they both survived the night.

* * *

"All right, Aya, we're almost done," Yohji assured him in the most soothing tone he could manage, moving the towel to dry the smaller man's hair.

Aya had fought like a wildcat, and Yohji would bear the evidence in the form of bruises, bites, scratches, and pinches for weeks to come. He had calmed about halfway through and gone completely limp so quickly that Yohji had begun to worry again, and dismissed the idea of leaving him alone when he realized that Aya would do nothing but sit and stare off into space unless promted.

At last he placed a towel on the counter and led Aya to sit there as he tied to get him dry – giving up on the hope that a cold shower would sober him up. Wiping fresh drops of water from the smooth alabaster of a beautiful nude body would have been a dream come true under other circumstances, but Yohji felt far too worried and guilty to enjoy it as he should, even when Aya reached forward to run his fingers through Yohji's long hair. Yohji quickly brushed the other man's hand away, continuing with his task.

Now Aya was watching him. Yohji could feel it – those dark, violet eyes peering at him from underneath the towel Yohji had thrown over the smaller man's head. Yohji forced himself to meet those eyes, to keep himself from trying to take a peek at his body. He reminded himself that this was _Aya_, the cold and formidable field leader of the Weiss. Attempting to take advantage of this moment of weakness would cost him dearly.

Aya put his arms around Yohji's neck and Yohji, _despite_ his resolve, did not resist when the smaller man leaned in to kiss him again.

The first time, it had surprised him, but he had enjoyed it. Now, this second time, Yohji was _more_ surprised.

And, again, the surprise did nothing to limit his enjoyment; however, he pulled away before the kiss could progress to anything more than a simple press of lips against lips.

"Aya," he said firmly, nearly scolding, "You don't know what you're doing."

Aya tried to lean into him and Yohji pulled away. He caught hold of Aya's arms, still wrapped around him, and managed to help him off the counter.

"We'll get you dressed, and then you can go to bed. Sleep it off," he babbled, unwinding those lovely arms and trying very hard not to look at his leader's pale, nude form. Aya stared at him for a moment, then walked away.

He was unsteady on his feet, but seemed more like himself as he wandered back into his bedroom. Yohji followed, still concerned, and watched the smaller man crawl into the bed and drag a blanket over his slim form.

Yohji moved to the armchair Aya kept near the window and sank down, eyes locked on the other man. Aya seemed a little better, maybe, but he was still worried. He couldn't bring himself to leave.

An hour, Yohji decided, getting comfortable. He would stay for an hour, then go back to his own room. If Aya was still alive and well in an hour, he would probably be fine.

An hour, Yohji promised himself as his eyes grew heavy and Aya's quiet, sleeping form filled his vision. In the morning, once he was feeling better, Aya would _kill_ him for trying to take care of him.

But Yohji would stay for an hour, anyway, just to be sure Aya was okay.

It was only an hour.

* * *

tbc

Aya didn't take anything, he's just a lightweight. His behavior is based on (cough) the way someone I know very well (cough, cough) acts when _she_ gets tipsy. I.E.: very sleepy and snuggly, although it takes considerably more to get her that way.

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

glinwulf - he's working through it, I think.

CaT70 - oh, but it wouldn't be as cute if we did it the easy way. (gins). Sorry, but I'm not familiar with that book at all.


	8. Chapter 8

No review response for last chapter just because it's been so long since I updates. Aplogies.

This is a fun chapter, and based on the particular picture of Aya that inspired me to write this story in the first place. I'll try to find it and post it in my LJ if anyone is interested.

* * *

He was awoken by the bright sunlight streaming through the window. His first instinct – to curse himself for falling asleep in that damned chair and staying there all night – vanished completely at the sight that greeted his tired eyes.

The window was located directly behind one side of the bed, and Yohji hadn't thought to close the curtains last night. The sun spilled through the white panes like liquid gold and, almost worshipfully, it seemed, dribbled down to cover and caress the small form still asleep in the bed. Aya was curled into an heartbreakingly fragile-looking ball, the blanket just barely covering the lower extremities of his delicate, nude form. The light played joyfully off the pale planes of those tight, lithe muscles, making his soft-looking skin almost sparkle.

Yohji had never seen Aya's face the way it now looked. It was…soft. Peaceful. Vulnerable. He had always known that Aya was a beautiful man, but that beauty had never before seemed so…real.

Aya shifted, curling more tightly into himself. The action caused the blanket to tug down, revealing a little more thigh, a little more sharp hip, a little more _everything_.

Yohji's breath caught, and it was more from surprise than anything else. His body was responding to Aya. _Aya_. If there was _anyone_ it was useless to fantasize about, it was cold, unfriendly, violent Aya Fujimiya. Other than to take notice of his beauty, Yohji had never before allowed himself to think of the man in that way.

Aya shifted again, silky-looking strands of red hair spilling into his delicate face, and Yohji rose quickly. He had the distinct feeling that Aya would _not_ be very forgiving if he woke to find Yohji watching him with a hard-on and a goofy smile. He fled the room with the distinct impression that he wasn't leaving a moment too soon.

A cold shower proved necessary. Much as he would like to, he could _not_ allow himself to think of Aya that way. The moment he started to see Aya in a sexual manner was the very moment the swordsman cut his junk off. Aya would _not_ tolerate it, he had no doubt.

He didn't spend any more time in the shower than was strictly necessary. He felt pretty shitty anyway, what with a stiff neck from sleeping in the chair all night and a distinctly tired feeling that told him he hadn't gotten nearly enough rest. He dressed comfortably, deciding to spend the day inside, and headed down to the kitchen without bothering to dry his hair.

He was met with the flat, humorless gaze of Aya, staring at him over a bag of ground coffee.

Yohji stopped. He stared at Aya, the image of the man as he had appeared earlier that morning flashing through his mind despite his best attempts to dampen the memories. Aya stared back – cold, unreadable. He was _Aya_ again, and the innocent, sleeping man he had been this morning might as well have never existed. The sweet, somewhat inebriated man who had kissed him last night might as well have been a figment of Yohji's imagination.

Yohji was the first to look away. He had to force himself to speak.

"You feeling okay this morning?" he asked. "Whatever you drank last night, I hope you know you gave me a scare."

"Want coffee?"

"Ah. Yeah. Yes. Thank you."

He waited until Aya's back was turned before looking at him again. There was no way he could keep himself from noticing the slim yet strong lines of his back through his t-shirt, or the cut of his small, perfect ass in his jeans. The damage had been done, and now Yohji couldn't stop _seeing_ Aya.

"I woke up naked."

Yohji gave a jump as the smaller man spoke, and he started guiltily when Aya turned away from the coffee maker to level his unnerving pansy-colored gaze on him.

"Kudoh?"

"Hey, all I did was make sure you were okay."

"By undressing me?"

"No! I wasn't…! I mean, I didn't…! I _wouldn't_ - ! But it would serve you right if I _did_!" he finished at last, lamely. Aya arched one delicate eyebrow.

"Pardon?" the man asked slowly.

"Coming on to me like some drunken prom date! And I _tried _to get you dressed, but you wouldn't - ! You…"

"That still doesn't explain why I was naked in the first place."

"I was trying to help you!"

"By undressing me."

Yohji faltered, struggling to explain himself. He was rescued only by the arrival of Ken, tromping down the stairs for a quick breakfast before an early-morning soccer game. He snagged a banana and a bottle of sports drink and was out the door without so much as a glance at either of his teammates. Aya had moved to the fridge, so Yohji hurried to the coffee pot and filled up the largest mug he could find, trying all the while not to think about the fact that Aya – and the knife drawer – were behind him.

When he turned around, it was to find Aya waiting with the carton of liquid creamer. Hoping he didn't appear nearly as nervous as he felt, he held out his mug and attempted a smile. Aya set the creamer down and took the mug from him.

Rather than pour the creamer, however, Aya set the mug down and turned to face him once more.

"A…Aya?" the man was just _staring_ at him, expression as blank as ever. He wondered if he was expecting him to explain or apologize. "You holding my coffee hostage or something?"

He didn't know what Aya was doing, and actually tried to pull back as the man reached for him.

Aya's hand caught in his hair. Pulled, _hard_, forcing his head down. His eyes widened as he suddenly found himself mere inches away from Aya's face.

Aya's other hand twitched and Yohji felt something sharp press into the skin of his belly. Had the bastard actually drawn a knife on him? Aya's eyes held him, trapped and helpless. He couldn't look away, couldn't pull back, couldn't think of a single glib comment to brush the moment off with.

And then, unbidden, his mind flashed him with the memory of the way Aya had looked this morning in the bed. The phantom memory of Aya lips on his last night followed, as well as the small, not-quite-formed thought of _what if_.

It all came to Yohji, and he could see in Aya's eyes that the man caught the look – the brief, instinctual flash of desire.

Aya scowled and shoved him away. Yohji's hip hit the table hard enough to bruise. Aya's back was to him, white-knuckled hands gripping the counter.

Yohji moved away slowly, circling until the table was between them. He could see on the floor the object Aya had threatened him with – not a knife, but a fruit spoon. Yohji had no doubt that he would have been able to seriously injure him anyway, even with something as harmless as that in the in quick and deadly hands of Weiss' leader. Aya could make a bag of flour or a square of tofu into deadly weapons.

"Nothing happened, Aya," he said in what he hoped was his most soothing tone of voice as he watched the other man's back tense and wished he had his wire on him. "You drank too much…or someone slipped you something. I was worried about you."

He spoke slowly, as if trying to talk down a jumper, and spread his empty hands harmlessly as Aya turned to face him.

He had never been so terrified in his life.

"I put you in the shower to try to sober you up," he explained, quickly rolling up one of his shirt sleeves. "Look – look at these bruises! You beat the shit out of me for trying!"

There was no response in Aya's eyes. Desperate, Yohji continued.

"I tried to change you out of your wet clothes, but you wouldn't put anything on. You just went to bed. Nothing happened, I swear. I didn't do anything but make sure you were okay. Aya? You gotta believe me. Aya?"

"Why did you kiss Yukio last night?"

Yohji faltered.

"What?"

"Yukio."

"You…saw that?"

Aya crossed his arms, waiting.

"Is _that_ what you're mad about? You were planning on breaking up with him anyway, weren't you?"

"Is that why you came with me last night? You wanted Yukio?"

"Yeah. Well…I mean, that _was_ why. But I don't anymore. Want him, I mean. I don't want him. Guy's a _bad_ kisser. I don't know what made me think I wanted him. I…"

"And how am I?"

Yohji stopped.

"What?"

"As a kisser. You said Yukio was bad, but he isn't the only one you kissed last night."

"You remember that?"

Aya waited.

"You? Ah…well…"

"Kudoh."

"I'm thinking, okay?"

"What is there to think about?"

"What do you want to hear, man? I can see you gutting me with a spork no matter what I say. You'll be pissed if I liked it, pissed if I didn't, and violent either way! I didn't choose this, you know. _You're_ the one who kissed _me!_"

"Fine." Aya's voice was cold. "I kissed you. Was I any good?"

"Yes!" Yohji exploded. "Yes! Great! Wonderful! I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all morning, so just castrate me and get it over with!"

Aya nodded once, tightly.

"Okay."

As he began to head for the kitchen door, Yohji scurried around the table, determined to keep it between them. His heart ran cold with fear as Aya stopped in the doorway to turn back and look at him.

"You're taking me out," he stated. "Tonight. Somewhere nice. Don't forget."

"Out?" Yohji blinked helplessly. "Like a date? Me and…and you?"

Aya was already walking away.

"Is that what you mean, Aya? Aya! Hey!"

He didn't stop. He rounded a corner and was out of sight.

Yohji slowly and bonelessly slid into a chair.

* * *

Yohji shifted in his seat. Reached to take another sip of water. Shifted again. He had never been so uncomfortable in his life.

This was his third 'date' with Aya, if he was even allowed to think of it in such terms. He still had yet to figure that one out.

The first night, Yohji had attempted to talk, tease, and joke with Aya, but had found that he lacked the courage to continue it at the almost-friendly level he had pushed them to before the Yukio/naked-Aya/kitchen fiasco, and so it had fallen short. He had failed to raise even the slightest response in the smaller man.

The second night had been even more halfhearted, and tonight – tonight they hadn't spoken one word to each other since leaving the house.

The waitress came with their bill, and Yohji was only too happy to pay, as long as it meant that the night was almost over. He didn't know what Aya was getting out of these little exchanges, but if the man wanted to keep doing this, Yohji just might have to summon up the courage to turn him down.

He had a cigarette lit the moment he hit the cool night air, and was halfway to the car before he realized that Aya was not by his side.

Stuffing a hand into his pocket, he turned around. Aya was several steps behind him, walking slowly. His eyes were fixed on the ground.

"Aya?" it felt strange to speak after hours of silence, but he did it. "You okay?"

Aya looked up. His eyes were as cold and unreadable as ever.

"I'm sorry, Yohji."

No doubt it had been difficult to say, but Yohji found himself staring anyway. Aya apologizing was a rare and confusing thing.

"For what?" he asked.

To his surprise, Yohji actually saw the man flinch ever so slightly, slim shoulders hunching a little. Aya backed away.

"For putting you through this. I thought that maybe…you don't have to do this again." Aya spoke as if each word he pushed out somehow pained him. Slowly, deliberately, he continued. "You should have just said no in the first place."

Yohji had forgotten about his cigarette, and he was silent with shock until it burnt down far enough to sting his fingers. Cursing, he flicked it away.

"I…guess you were…afraid…to say no," Aya said finally. "I wouldn't have hurt you. It was wrong for me to try to influence you into dating me."

Yohji pulled his burnt fingers from his mouth, staring dumbly.

"You mean these _were_ dates?"

"You yourself said it. Even I get lonely. I apologize for wasting your time."

"Aya…?"

"There's no reason for you to have another wasted night. I'll take a cab home," he thrust a wad of bills into one of Yohji's hands. "Go to one of your clubs and have a good time. I'll cover your shift tomorrow morning."

Yohji could only stare, silent, at him. As Aya turned and began to walk back to the restaurant, he found himself following.

"You wanted to _date_ me."

"It was only a thought. You're the only one who I…" Aya trailed off. Yohji was about to stop following him when he spoke again. "You saw me," he said quietly. "You took an interest in my health. I couldn't scare you off. You forced me to talk to you. I was irresponsible of me to begin to think…"

Yohji reached out and caught his arm and Aya stopped walking. For a moment, the blonde felt a rush of fear, but he quickly pushed it away. He had hurt Aya's feelings. He couldn't allow himself to be afraid of the man if he wanted to fix that.

"I was the one you wanted all along, wasn't I?" he asked, amazed. "Except, you didn't know how to ask, and I was too stupid to see it."

Aya didn't answer, didn't turn to look at him. Yohji fought the urge to release him. Bravely, he slid his thumb against the back of Aya's wrist.

Yohji wasn't sure what he was doing, just that he would find himself at the pointy end of a katana if he wasn't careful.

"Aya…?"

The man turned to him at last, and had he been anyone else, Yohji would have called the movement hesitant. Ignoring the logic that told him to leave Aya alone left him working on pure instinct.

He slid his hand up Aya's arm to his elbow, and using that hold, and his own body, he backed Aya up against a nearby car.

He lowered his head until his breath was shared with Aya's. Inches away from his lips he hesitated. Aya was staring at him – cold, unreadable. Beautiful. Yohji remembered the sight of him, pale and nude and vulnerable in the early morning light, and he realized that that was a sight he would like to wake to again.

He'd been unbearably jealous when Aya had been dating Yukio, and yet, when it had come down to it, he hadn't wanted Yukio at all. Could it have been _Aya_ who he'd been yearning for?

His free hand came up to cup Aya's cheek, his thumb caressing his soft lips, urging them to part for him. He remembered the feel of those lips on his own, and realized that it was something he wanted to experience at least one more time.

Yohji drew back without kissing him, and Aya's eyes, which had begun to drift closed, opened. Yohji was too close; he had to step away, catch his breath, or he would do something he would never be forgiven for.

"Yohji…?"

"Okay," his voice came out shaky, and he took another step away, running a hand backwards through his hair. "Okay. Let's give it a shot."

"A…?"

"Let's try this for real. Hell, why not? Let's give it a chance," he laughed, and it sounded just as rattled as he now felt.

And why shouldn't he be? He had once told Aya that if he wanted a serious relationship, he'd probably go for another man.

Aya had just proven that this was far more serious than he had ever before dreamed.

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

Chapter 9

* * *

A glance at the clock showed less than half an hour until closing. The last of the after school crowd had finally begun to trickle away, leaving the shop's four exhausted employees free to begin to clean up, break down the register, and prepare for closing.

Aya had drifted to the workbench, as was his habit, to get a head start on tomorrow's projects. As nonchalantly as he could, Yohji began making his way toward him. Under pretext of watering a pot overflowing with mums, he managed to get close enough to 'accidentally' knock a roll of ribbon off the table.

"Oops. Sorry."

Smiling, he put down his watering can and bent to pick up the ribbons. Toying with them in his hands, he casually rested his backside against the edge of the table.

Aya's eyes regarded him warily.

"So…" Yohji drawled.

Their first 'real' date wasn't for three more days, and now that Yohji wasn't fretting over what it meant to be spending a night out with Aya, he was looking forward to it. The only problem he could foresee now was holding himself back.

Yohji usually took someone agreeing to date him as a sign that that person was _also_ willing to do more. He was skilled enough that he could even easily convince someone who wasn't quite ready for more. He didn't have the patience to invest a lot of time in dating someone he knew he wasn't serious about, so there was no point in going slowly.

With Aya, though…with Aya, Yohji found that he was determined to explore this strange new attraction to its fullest. Aya was not someone to use and then throw away; he wasn't a toy or a distraction. He was…something special.

The very newness of that idea was what had Yohji so excited.

"What do you want, Kudoh?" Aya's voice was cold, but if Yohji had learned anything over the past several weeks it was that a scary glare and a cold voice didn't always mean what they seemed to. He reminded himself that with Aya, backing off was not an option – the only way to break past the icy façade was to push and push and push some more.

And anyway, the man had very nearly promised not to hurt him for trying to get close.

"I just wanted to come see you," he said. He thought about reaching out to tug on his hair, but found he wasn't brave enough. Instead, he settled for reaching for one of the flowers spread across the table's work surface. "Is that so wrong?"

A grunt. Aya snatched the flower away from him and continued working without further acknowledgement of his presence.

Unfortunately for Aya, Yohji understood the rules now. His insistence on annoying Aya had been what had won him the man's interest in the first place, and the fact that the beautiful but socially inept man had managed to say _anything_ to him about it at all was merely the exception to the rule.

If Yohji wanted this to go anywhere, he was going to have to push Aya's buttons any and every way he could. Otherwise, they would be back to silent and painfully awkward dates neither one of them enjoyed.

"So. How was your day?"

"You were here," Aya tugged a ribbon Yohji had been sitting on out from under his ass and refused to look at him. "How do _you_ think it was?"

"Smarty. I'm trying to make conversation, here. Humoring me won't hurt you, you bastard."

"Yotan!"

He jerked a little, reluctantly looking up to find Omi at the counter. Ken was locking up the front door.

"Will you check me?" Omi asked, motioning to the cash drawer that he had already counted down. Yohji sighed, glanced at Aya regretfully, and moved to do some actual work. "Were you bugging Ayan, Yotan?" the young assassin teased. "I know he let you introduce him to some of your friends, but don't you think you should be more careful?"

"Careful? You think he'll stab me?"

"Well…he _looks_ like he might."

Yohji looked up. Across the room, still seated at his workbench, Aya was staring at him.

Yohji ducked his head back to the money he was counting, fighting a grin.

"You're right, chibi," he answered. "I think he _is_ after my ass."

The younger man sighed, clearly deciding not to bother trying to find out why Yohji's voice had been so suggestive while saying that. When Yohji finished double-checking him and co-signed the deposit, the smaller blonde seemed only too happy to take the money from him.

Relieved of duty at last, Yohji began to stalk back to the workbench. Aya watched him approach, the only clear expression on his face being one of hostility.

Grinning at him was one of the bravest actions Yohji had ever taken.

Unfortunately, as he reached him, he found that he couldn't think of anything to say. He stood there like an idiot, grinning at Aya with a completely blank mind.

Aya's lips twitched.

"Thank you for volunteering, Yohji," he said.

The blonde blinked. "What?"

Aya rose from the table and placed the flowers he had been cutting into the section of the freezers reserved for working arrangements. When he turned back to Yohji, there was a definite smile on his lips.

"I'm going to pick up dinner. You're going to help."

"And let me guess: you wanna walk there."

"Yes."

"And if I said I didn't want to go?"

"I would tell you that you should have thought about that before."

"Before. Yes. Before I decided to try to force you to act like an actual human being?"

"No. Before you decided to spend the day bugging the hell out of me," Aya corrected.

Yohji shrugged. "Same diff."

* * *

Yohji didn't like it.

The men of Weiss split up cooking duties every week to keep things fair. Aya's nights to cook usually meant take-out. No one, to Yohji's knowledge, had ever bothered to ask Aya where he got the food from.

There was one place that the small man went to most often. The food wasn't bad, and Aya seemed to enjoy it more than anything else they ever had. At least, when he brought stuff home from there, he tended to eat more than usual.

What Yohji hadn't realized, however, was what a bad part of town the restaurant he favored was located in.

And the son of a bitch _walked_ there.

Yohji stuffed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, silently fuming. He knew that driving a nice car like Aya's down here would only be asking for trouble, but Aya was too damn pretty to be walking around a place like this.

Aya glanced at him sidewise, frowning.

"I can take care of myself," he said, as if reading Yohji's mind. He didn't sound happy.

Yohji stumbled a step.

"I didn't say…"

Aya didn't stop walking.

"I know you agreed to date me. I know this was all my idea. And I know that I have no experience with relationships – if there's even a chance of forming one between us," his voice was quiet, tight, and just this side of angry. "But I don't want to put up with any protective shit from you."

Yohji caught Aya's arm and forced him to stop. Aya turned to meet his eyes slowly.

"I wouldn't like this even if we didn't have a date on Friday," Yohji said. He made sure to speak quietly and slowly. That always seemed to be the best way to make sure he and Aya understood each other. He knew it was the best way to sound sincere.

And, for once, he really _did_ mean it.

"Aya…do you have any idea what you look like?"

The man scowled, wrenched away, and began walking again.

Yohji hurried to follow, but stayed a few steps behind, just in case the man decided to become violent.

"Aya…"

"Go home, Kudoh."

The tone of his voice almost stopped him. It was the ultra-cold, authoritative voice of the leader of Weiss.

"Aya, I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Because I look like some kind of freak?"

"No. Why the hell do you hate the fact you're so gorgeous?"

Aya stopped. Rounded on him. His arm flew out so quickly that Yohji himself was surprised when he managed to catch hold of it.

Aya's expression was one of pure fury.

"You're small," Yohji said quietly. "And you're delicate. Exotic. Irresistibly beautiful. And your body…"

Aya swung with his other arm and Yohji caught it. It was a testament to the neighborhood that no one even stopped to notice their argument.

"I know you can take care of yourself," he continued, "But some pervert that sees you on the street and things you're an easy mark won't know that. Even you could be caught by surprise."

"Kudoh…"

"I just don't want to see you get hurt. What about that makes you so pissed?"

The tension left Aya's arms. He looked lost.

Yohji was willing to bet that 'pissed off' was just Aya's immediate response to things that frightened or challenged him. When questioned about it, the man usually didn't have an explination.

Aya was confused enough that Yohji was able to draw him close. An arm around his slim shoulders, Yohji began to walk again – urging Aya along beside him.

Having his arm around the small man as they walked felt…strange. _Good_ strange. Aya was the perfect height, width, _everything_ for it to be completely comfortable, even natural, for them to position themselves so. He fit at Yohji's side as if he was _meant_ to be there.

"You have to make a turn here," Aya said quietly as they approached a corner. He hadn't yet tried to pull away. Yohji followed his directions without comment, reluctant to break this sudden, sweet spell. He wanted to keep his arm around Aya for as long as possible.

They reached the end of the street and were stopped by a crosswalk. Aya quietly indicated that the restaurant was across the street.

Aya shifted slightly as they waited for the light to change, but he didn't pull away.

"You…" his voice was barely above a whisper, his hesitancy endearing. It was Yohji's turn to read minds.

"I meant everything I said."

Aya nodded, and said nothing else. The light gave them the walk signal, and they crossed.

Aya's restaurant was a small place, but it was crowded. Aya slipped out from under yohji's arm and quietly told him to take a seat at one of the few empty tables and wait for him. Yohji considered making a joke, then abandoned the idea on the off-chance that Aya would be nice to him on the walk home.

Yohji took a seat and stretched out his long legs, ready to people-watch. The restaurant's patrons were almost all fairly young. Many tables held study groups.

University students, then. It made sense that Aya would choose a place where other academics would choose to hang out. It explained a little of why he would walk into suck a bad part of town just for food. It was probably one of the only pleasures he allowed himself.

Aya actually chatted a little with the people in line with him. Still quiet, but he was more shy than antisocial. Before whatever had happened that had led him into his current life, _this_ had been the kind of person Aya had been.

It was…fascinating to watch. Yohji's mind, so long trained into picking up every little detail, hungrily soaked up these clues into Aya's personality.

Aya smiled at the man behind the cash register – actually _smiled_ – and chatted a little before giving his food order. Yohji rose as the redhead returned to him and , noting the way the man behind the counter watched Aya walk away, send him a friendly smile and a wave. The worker frowned and, hesitantly, waved back.

Aya gave him a suspicious look as he put his arm around him again and led him back outside. He didn't, however, try to pull away. That was a good sign.

Yohji took one of the bags of food.

"So, who's your friend?" he asked casually.

Aya just looked at him a moment before he understood.

"Tatsuki? His brother owns the restaurant."

"Looked interested."

"In what?"

"You?"

Aya blinked. Then looked at him. Yohji thought he could detect a slight blush, and then the smaller man was looking away.

"If he's interested," Aya mused quietly, "Then why the hell am I bothering with you?"

Yohji stumbled.

"You _are_ joking, right?"

A small smile. Aya hesitated, then slowly, awkwardly, let his arm go around Yohji's waist. He only left it there for a moment, but a moment was more than enough.

Grinning, Yohji gave his shoulder a squeeze.

* * *

tbc

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

Henna - happy you enjoyed it - and don't worry, your English was fine.

CaT70 - WHOA FOR ALL CAPS! lol... I couldn't get the picture to come up though...(ish sad)


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry for the wait. I had to cut something big out of this, for plot reasons, so it's a shorter chapter than usual. Sorry.

* * *

"What is it…what is it you really want from me?"

He watched Aya blink slowly, dark lashes descending to brush pale cheeks, then lifting once more to reveal those striking violet eyes. He turned his head to look at Yohji.

"What?"

"Don't take me the wrong way," Yohji couldn't look at him or he would lose his nerve. "I'm really looking forward to Friday. But I'm still confused."

"Confused?" Aya repeated. His voice was quiet, unreadable. Yohji didn't know what else he'd expected.

"What are you wanting this to be?" Yohji clarified.

"What are you _willing_ to let his be?" he countered.

Yohji stopped. Aya stopped too.

"You would leave it up to me?"

Aya closed his eyes and took a careful breath. "I know you aren't the kind of person who has relationships," he said, voice cold. "Honestly, trying for something…something _real_, that is…that would be my preferred choice. I recognize, however, that my options are limited."

"Why me, then? Why not Ken? Or someone else? Hell, I'm sure you'd be able to find plenty of people who would be more than interested in you. Even other Krittiker agents, since that seems to be a stipulation."

"But you're the one I want." Still cold, still unreadable, still intimidating and impossible Aya, but there was something in his eyes as he opened them and looked at Yohji once more. "I like you, Yohji."

"Sure have a funny way of showing it," the blonde mumbled without thought.

Aya blinked, slowly, at him.

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded!" he said quickly.

"Then how," Aya asked, "_Did_ you mean it?"

Yohji began to walk again, and Aya followed. It took all of Yohji's strength to explain himself to the small and frightening man.

"You said you were interested in me. You said you wanted to date me. Now you say you like me."

Aya glanced at him, his gaze pointedly asking him to get to the point.

"Okay," Yohji said. "But all I've got to go on is what you _say_ – and you aren't exactly talkative. I can't read you. I don't know when it's okay to make a move on you, or whether or not I'm getting on your nerves – do you understand?"

Aya looked away again. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

"Did you agree to date me because you're afraid of me?"

"No."

Aya looked at him sharply, clearly not believing him, and Yohji knew it was because he had answered so quickly.

Time to take the risk of complete honesty, then.

"I _want_ to date you. I'm very, _very_ interested in you. And I know you won't believe it, but I actually think that finding something… something _more_…between us would be...impossibly good – for the both of us. But I need to get to know you. I _want_ to get to know you. You have to let me know you."

Aya stared at him, as if waiting for him to take it back.

Yohji met his eyes unblinkingly.

Aya was once again the first to look away. He didn't speak for a very long time, and Yohji couldn't help but to wonder if he'd just ruined everything. At last Aya stopped him under a street light just outside the flower shop.

"Why didn't you kiss me the other day?" he demanded boldly.

With his free hand Yohji reached out, carefully brushing hair out of Aya's eyes. The man looked so vulnerable that Yohji didn't let himself second guess the action.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

"I want to know why you didn't before."

"I didn't before because…" Yohji slid his hand down the side of the redhead's lovely face, brushing the blade of his thumb against his jaw. "I only push things to go fast when I don't see any future in it – why waste the time, you know?"

Aya closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the violet orbs were bright and dark and honest.

"I'll…I'll _try_…Yohji," he promised in what was very nearly a whisper.

Somehow, that was just what Yohji had wanted to hear. Smiling, he slid his hand back, letting Aya's hair spill silkily through his fingers. He felt like an idiot, grinning at the man like that.

Then slowly, and with heartbreaking hesitancy, Aya smiled back.

"Beautiful," Yohji realized aloud, stunned.

The smile left Aya's face, simply falling away as if it had never existed. He ducked his head and stepped out of Yohji's reach.

"The food is getting cold," he said quietly, refusing to look at him. "We should go inside."

"This your subtle sign to tell me you're ready to be left alone?" Yohji asked, hooking a hand in his pocket to keep from reaching for him again.

A hesitation, then a sharp nod.

"Fair enough," Yohji agreed. Aya turned to head for the shop, but stopped when Yohji called out to him. He waited until the smaller man actually looked him in the eye before, grinning, he spoke. "Next time you feel snuggly…I'm your man."

Aya smiled slightly, nodded sharply, and headed for the shop.

Feeling considerably lighter, Yohji followed.

They circled around to the back of the now-closed shop and entered through the kitchen of the living area. Aya waited for Yohji, holding the door and smiling shyly. Yohji returned the smile, turned sideways to pass him in the doorway, and made sure his body brushed Aya's along the way.

He was rewarded with a blush – something he'd never expected to see from his fearless leader. He had to turn away to hide his grin.

"Wonder where the others are?" Yohji asked nonchalantly, setting his bag of food on the counter.

The kitchen was empty except for them. It had taken long enough for them to walk down to the restaurant and back that he had half-expected their hungry teammates to be waiting at the table.

Still, their absence meant a little more time alone with Aya.

The thought gave him pause. He was in trouble if he was thinking things like that when they hadn't even slept together – or had a sober kiss, or hugged, or had anything even resembling a real date.

"Light are out upstairs," Aya announced, returning from peering up the stairs.

"You think they got tired of waiting and went to get their own food?" maybe he and Aya could work on an early start to this dating thing.

Yohji leaned his rear against the counter and crossed his arms. He felt decidedly predatory as he watched Aya move to the door that opened to the basement. The man's small body was impossibly graceful even in the simple act of walking. He wondered if Aya knew how dangerously sexy he had the potential to be.

"We could start without them."

"They're downstairs," Aya's voice was too cold for him to be thinking along the same lines as Yohji. He didn't even look at him before he began to walk down the steps.

Frustrated, Yohji pushed off the counter and followed.

He would have to pay off Ken and Omi to leave the house 'spontaneously' one night, though. A little extra time alone with Aya…when Aya was, perhaps, a little unsuspecting…

It could be a fun night.

He froze on the bottom landing. Aya was crossing the room to take a seat. Omi and Ken already occupied the couch.

And standing before the television was a tall red haired woman with killer legs.

"Manx," for once, Yohji felt disappointed to see the woman.

She noticed.

"Kudoh?" for a moment she seemed confused, but she motioned for him to join the others, nevertheless. "Happy you decided to join us."

"Wouldn't have bothered if I'd known," he grumbled, crossing the room.

She chose to ignore him.

Yohji barely listened as she began to explain the specifics of the mission – some run-of-the-mill, get in, kill the bad guys, get out kind of thing. He agreed with the others to do the mission, and accepted the file he was handed, flipping through it boredly. Damn it, but he was only backup.

"Okay," he sighed. "So, next Saturday…"

"It will have to be Friday," Manx interrupted. "It's the only day the targets will be vulnerable."

"But I have plans for Friday!"

"You'll have to change them then, won't you?" Aya asked coolly. Yohji stared at him, but the small man gave no indication that he even remembered _he_ had been the one Yohji had made plans with.

"He's letting you go out again?"

He sent Ken a dirty look. "Yeah, he's 'letting' me," he shot back. "And it's a _hot_ date, too."

"You're pathetic."

"And you're just jealous. Manx, are you _sure_ there's not another night we could…?"

"You've already agreed to do the mission, Kudoh," Aya said quietly. He may have been fighting a smile.

"Yeah, but I was really looking forward to my plans," he answered honestly.

"No doubt," Manz was very clearly displeased by Yohji's protest. "I'm sure whoever she is, she'll understand if you come up with a good enough excuse."

"I'm not worried about that…I'm just really disappointed."

This time, he was positive he saw Aya smile.

* * *

tbc

Originally, there was a specific mission. But it never went anywhere, so I cut it. This is a fluff-fic, after all.

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

glinwulf - Aya is such a special little popcicle...

CaT70 - I totally think they should do one. And they should let me help. (grins) Can you imagine? Anyway, I don't think anyone who's ever watched the series would be surprised (I've actually seen a newcomer to the series on a video page leave a comment on the OVA along the lines of "where's the boy love? This series is yaoi, isn't it?" lol.

Thanks everyone! And again, sorry for the wait!


	11. Chapter 11

As always, big thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter.

This is one of my favorite chapters.

* * *

"Someone just kill me and get it the hell over with!" Yohji groaned. Using the refrigerator for support, the blonde leaned into the cool box in search of a beer and tried, without much success, to forget the entire night.

"Will you quit bitching already?"

He glared at Ken as he pulled himself out of the fridge, beer in hand. "Sorry," he said. "_Some_ of us didn't get to spend the night all cozy and happy in the car doing surveillance. _Some_ of us had to actually risk our lives."

"For the last time – it's not _my_ fault you were chased by dogs all night!"

"What part of 'surveillance' don't you understand, dick head?"

"All right, that's enough foul language and threats of violence for one night," Omi said cheerfully, coming through the door. "Head on to bed now, or else volunteer to send my report to Krittiker to me. Any takers? No? Oh, what a shame!"

Yohji and Ken shared one last dirty look before the latter turned to go upstairs.

"Really. It was a _good_ mission. We were successful and none of us got hurt!"

"After-mission bickering is, like, a law, chibi," Yohji pointed out, popping the top on his beer. "You really want to risk angering the universe by not following its plan?"

Omi shook his head wryly. "You're so full of it, Yotan."

"Don't stay up too late writing to those jackasses, okay chibi?"

Waving, the youth retreated to the basement.

Yohji looked up from his drink as Aya finished locking up the back door and turned to go upstairs.

"So you're not even going to tell me goodnight?" he drawled slowly.

"It's too late for us to do anything, Kudoh," the man sighed. "Behave yourself, and we'll try to go out tomorrow."

"You can at least take a seat and talk to me for a few minutes, can't you?"

Aya glared. Yohji tried to look innocent.

Aya took a seat.

"You see?" Yohji teased. "That didn't hurt at all, did it? Hold on…" he got up and went back to the fridge. Aya blinked at him when he returned with a drink.

"What's this?"

"You don't like beer, right? So I picked you up some bottled tea. That brand's supposed to be pretty good, and…what?"

"Nothing. Thank you." Aya twisted the top off the bottle and took a small, experimental sip. Yohji watched him until, slowly, the smaller man raised his eyes to meet him. It was Aya's turn to ask, "What?"

Yohji grinned. "'Nothing.'"

The smaller man frowned at him, not liking having his own trick turned back on him.

"You wanted me to stay down here and talk to you. So talk," he ordered. "Or I'm leaving."

"I'm amazed, Aya."

"Amazed?"

"Who would have guessed you were secretly so cute?"

Aya scowled and began to rise. Yohji quickly grabbed hold of his wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"_That_ doesn't constitute talking, Kudoh. Good night."

"Wait!" Yohji rose quickly. Aya merely looked at him, expectant. "How about that kiss we never had?"

"What happened to not rushing it?"

"Just a small one," Yohji reached for his other arm, holding him gently in place. "What do you think?" he slid his hands down the soft leather that covered Aya's arms, took his hands into his own. Aya didn't say yes, but he didn't say no, either. Yohji leaned in close. "Barely even a kiss, really," he whispered, their breath mingling. "Just something…to prove that tonight hasn't been a complete waste."

Aya was staring at his lips; his own had parted slightly. Yohji raised one hand to gently cup the back of Aya's head as he leaned in even closer.

His lips just barely brushed the corner of Aya's mouth. Yohji smiled to himself as he heard the small man's breath catch, and moved his lips upwards, tracing gentle kisses against the line of Aya's cheekbone. He brushed his lips against one soft earlobe, breathed softly into the soft shell of his ear, then pulled slowly away.

Aya's eyes were closed. When he opened them, they were almost accusing.

Yohji smiled.

"Goodnight, then."

"Yohji?"

He waited. Aya actually faltered for a moment.

"I like the tea," he said at last.

"Good."

"Good. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Yohji agreed.

Looking adorably confused, Aya left.

Yohji returned to his seat and his beer, although he only took the can into his hands and didn't drink from it. He suddenly felt energized. Excited.

Alive.

It had been years since it had been so effortless. He felt like a horny teenager again, but it wasn't just the 'horny' part of teenhood he felt. It was that excitement, that anticipation, that not-quite-fear feeling of not knowing what was to come next, but not being able to wait, and sex – or the illusion of the chance of sex – was only a _part_ of it all.

Yohji leaned back in his seat and tried to imagine Aya upstairs getting changed for bed. Those slim, pale shoulders. That strong, graceful back. That long, elegant torso.

His hands tightened around the beer can, and he had to force them to loosen. The fact that he had seen it all the other night only served to make his imagination cruelly accurate. He was going to need a cigarette if he kept up this train of thought.

Yohji drank deeply from his beer. Aya was, very clearly, not one of those love-him and leave-him conquests the blonde had become so accustomed to. The fact that teasing the man even the slightest bit could get his brain on this track proved _that_.

Aya clearly didn't know what he was getting himself into. Yohji seriously doubted that the man meant to be getting himself involved with someone so willing to throw himself into love.

It was time again. Love had cut his heart out in the past, but the damn thing kept growing back anyway.

And there was something about Aya that told him that this could be something very serious indeed.

Yohji finished his beer and decided to go to bed, rather than have another. He would need to be in top form tomorrow if he wanted to be able to play with Aya.

And if he remembered correctly, the man was scheduled to open the shop – _alone_ – in the morning.

* * *

"How's about a little breakfast?"

Yohji grinned as Aya jumped, nearly dropping the box he was carrying. The smaller assassin turned slowly to look at him. His gaze was venomous.

"What are you doing up?" he demanded quietly.

"I'm not working this morning?"

"No," Aya must have been grumpy this morning. By his tone alone he seemed very near to leaving what little patience he had. "It's Saturday morning," he stated slowly, coldly. "We don't need two people on a Saturday morning."

Yohji shrugged, holding out his own box.

"Doughnut?"

Aya glared at him suspiciously and Yohji did a very good job of continuing to grin.

"I don't like doughnuts," Aya groused at last, turning away.

Yohji hurried to follow.

"How can you not like doughnuts?"

A grunt was his only answer.

"There's no way you can dislike doughnuts. You just dislike _eating_, that's all." Yohji pressed. "You don't like anything that feels good – and I've made it my job to remedy that."

"I'm busy, Kudoh."

Yohji looked around the abandoned shop, then back to Aya. He raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

Caught in his lie, Aya actually faltered a moment before glaring. He dropped the box he was carrying right where they stood, and Yohji could see that it was filled with extra arrangement materials – surplus ribbons and papers and decorations.

"No need to be so pissy," Yohji teased, leading Aya over to the workbench. The shop, he noticed, was overstocked and spotless. The man must have been bored out of his mind.

Yohji set the doughnut box down and opened it to display the large selection of treats he had procured. There was no missing the look in Aya's eyes. The small redhead had most certainly been lying about his tastes.

Still, he began to reach for the plainest one.

Yohji caught his hand.

"Come on now – live a little!" he scolded. He picked out a chocolate-dripped cream-filled and handed it to Aya. The small swordsman only hesitated a moment before taking a small bite.

"Milk."

"Huh?"

"You forgot milk."

"Right. Be right back."

When Yohji returned with two large glasses and the cold carton, it was to find Aya finishing off the doughnut and eyeing another.

"Napkins?" he asked when Yohji joined him.

"We don't need any," Yohji assured him. He set his burden down and reached for Aya's hand. Aya quickly drew back.

"What are you doing?"

"Just trust me," he chuckled. He caught hold of his wrist with both of his hands and pulled it close. Aya's eyes grew very wide as Yohji began to lick his fingers clean.

He tried to pull away.

"Don't _do_ that!" he hissed, a blush staining his cheeks.

Yohji rolled his eyes up and caught sight of a tiny clot of chocolate on Aya's lip. He released his hand and moved forward, and Aya, suspicious, moved back. Yohji succeeded in backing him into the workbench. Linking his fingers through the belt loops of Aya's jeans successfully kept the man trapped in place as he lowered his head and softly licked the chocolate away.

"What the _hell_?"

Yohji pulled quickly away at the unexpected, shrill shriek. He turned his head to find a very pale-looking Ken standing in the doorway that led from the shop to the kitchen.

Grinning, and feeling a little mean, Yohji leaned into Aya.

"Oh," he said casually. "Good morning, Kenken."

"Milk. I was looking for, and there wasn't any. Milk. Wasn't any milk. And I milk. Milk I. Um…" Ken swallowed, shook his head. "What the _hell_?" he shrieked again.

"We were out of napkins," Yohji explained with his best attempt at innocence. He grunted as Aya's elbow struck him, hard, in the ribs. The small man quickly squeezed out of his arms and away from his reach.

Ken's eyes, large and traumatized, followed him. Aya tried to ignore the stare, toying with a display of seeds as if believing the neat stacks in need of even more straightening, but as the seconds of silence slid into increasingly-awkward minutes, he at last looked up.

First he turned his glare on Yohji, and the blonde could only shrug. He was pretty sure they _both_ knew Aya would only get angrier if he tried to 'help.' Silence was the only idea he'd had.

Aya reluctantly turned his eyes to Ken.

"We were…just…trying something," he said, far more awkward than Yohji had ever heard him. He lowered his gaze, shooting Yohji another glare from under his lashes.

"Trying something," Ken repeated flatly. "_Trying something_?"

Yohji snickered as, on the second repetition, his teammate's voice grew unnaturally high. This time when Aya glared, he knew he was well and truly angry.

The small redhead gave Ken a sharp nod, picked up the box he'd dropped earlier, and retreated to the supply closet.

Yohji cocked his head, happy to watch his backside as he walked away.

"How the _hell_ do you just randomly 'try something' like _that_?" Ken demanded, still unnaturally shrill.

Looking at him again, Yohji couldn't keep himself from grinning. He gave a carefree shug.

"Like _you_ wouldn't go for it!" he said flippantly.

Humming to himself and waggling his eyebrows for his friend's benefit, Yohji gathered up the remains of his breakfast. Ken actually scampered out of his way as he passed by on his way to the kitchen.

* * *

tbc

Why do I always feel like I should apologize to Ken fans? The boy lends himself to these kinds of situations, what can I say? (grins)

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

CaT70 - I think the rainbow trails would give them away during missions, though. lol. And you know, I think you're the first person in history to refer to Aya as a marshmallow...


	12. Chapter 12

As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter.

* * *

"You're honestly going to be all pissy and mean just because I had a little fun with Ken?"

The beauty at the worktable answered him with nothing but icy silence. Cursing, Yohji ran a hand through his hair.

"You think I wanted to spend my entire off-day sitting around the shop chatting up _your_ bony ass?" he demanded, losing patience at last. "Least you could do is acknowledge me or something. Hell, yell if you want – but it drives me crazy to be ignored by a hot babe. Come on Aya! Don't be - !"

The cheery jingle of the the bell above the shop door interrupted him. It was only Ken, back from his morning soccer practice. When he saw them – Aya at the table, Yohji perched atop a counter – his face grew bright red.

After a moment, he chose Aya as the lesser evil, addressing himself to him.

"Lemme get a shower, and I'll be right back to take my shift."

Not looking up, Aya gave a curt nod. Ken hurried away.

"I could have slept in today, you know," Yohji said, lowering his voice a little. "I could have…well, there's a lot of things I could have done today and didn't because I wanted to be with you instead. Because we didn't get to go out last night, and I felt deprived."

_That_, at least, caused him to look up.

"I _do_ feel deprived!" Yohji insisted. "Can't you just say something?"

"We aren't friends," Aya stated.

"Maybe silence was better, after all."

Aya's eyes were cold.

"We aren't friends," he repeated. "The times we were out together were uncomfortable. We haven't had a real kiss, except the one I can't remember. How in the _hell_ could you possibly feel deprived?"

Yohji faltered, fumbling for an answer. He was given a momentary reprieve as the shop bell jingled again. Aya rose, moved out from behind the table to help a little old woman.

Yohji snuck up behind him as the woman made her purchase, trapping him behind the counter as they were left alone once more.

"Kudoh…"

"Just listen."

Aya waited, eyes cold.

"I like you," when Aya raised his eyebrows doubtfully, Yohji swore to press on no matter how stupid he ended up sounding. "You're right – we _haven't_ done all that stuff yet, but…I like you. You're a hell of a trial to get along with sometimes, but…there's just something about you…"

Annoyed, Aya attempted to push past.

Yohji caught him by the wrist and pulled him back, using his body to trap him against the counter.

"You keep surprising me," he continued, catching and holding his eyes. "And when I'm close to you like this…"

"Kudoh…"

"I remember it all day."

"Step away from me."

"You're…"

"_Now_."

"_Addictive_."

Somehow, that hadn't been what Aya had expected to hear. Yohji chuckled quietly at the surprise in his eyes. He pressed closer, skimming his thumb against the back of his wrist.

"You're a risk, too. A week ago, I never would have dared do something like this."

"It sounds like you were smarter a week ago."

"I can't stop myself, Aya."

"Kudoh…"

"I like that I'm the only one who's ever been this close. I like it when I learn something about you I didn't know before…something no one else knows, either."

"You have thirty seconds before I injure you."

Aya wasn't buying into the sincere act. A pity that Yohji had been completely serious.

The blonde released him and stepped back, holding his hands up harmlessly.

"Let me go with you to lunch."

Aya brushed past him, once again treating him to cold silence now that he was no longer being held against his will. Yohji stared after him, inwardly cursing Ken for interrupting them this morning. He couldn't help but to think that Aya being mad at him was all the athlete's fault.

For a fraction of a second, he considered giving up for the day.

"If you don't answer me, I'm just going to take it as permission to go with you."

Aya froze in the act of reaching for the arrangement he'd been working on. Slowly, he looked at Yohji.

"The only reason we even are where we are right now is because I was stupid enough to annoy the hell out of you in the first place," Yohji said, fighting to appear confident in the face of that glare. "I can't read you, so the only way to get to know you is to irritate you until you snap. It scored me a date, didn't it? So you give me no choice, Aya. You have to talk to me, or I'm just gonna assume I have permission to do whatever the hell I want."

He crossed his arms, mainly to keep himself from fidgeting as Aya simply continued to stare..

He would never know what Aya would have said, or if he'd been on the verge of answering at all. Ken returned, hair still wet from the shower, and donned his apron without looking at either of them.

"Okay, I'm clocking in, Aya," he mumbled. "Why don't you go ahead and take your lunch break before the afternoon rush kicks in?"

Aya grunted and rose without finishing the arrangement.

Yohji hurried to follow him out the door, but soon found he needn't have bothered to rush. Aya stood just under the awning – not waiting for Yohji, but glaring at the drizzling rain that had begun to fall.

He turned that glare on Yohji as he approached, and the blonde dropped the hand that had been reaching for him.

They stared at each other for several moments as the rain began to fall harder. Thunder crashed loudly, unexpectedly.

"Let me drive you," Yohji suggested. "Anywhere you want."

Aya simply stared at him. Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting them both harshly as, quite suddenly, the afternoon sky became completely black.

"I'll even pull the car around!" he offered, raising his voice over the sudden roar of the rain. "You won't even have to get wet. Remember – when you don't answer, you give me permission to decide on my own."

Aya stared at him a moment longer. Yohji thought he saw his lips twitch.

He gave a single, sharp nod.

Yohji couldn't stop himself from grinning. He gave the sky a quick glance, then hurried out into the rain.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Aya demanded, yelling to be heard over the rain, as Yohji jumped out of the car. Huddled in on himself, the blonde ran the short distance from the sidewalk to the awning. "Yohji?"

His efforts were rewarded by a look of blatant surprise from Aya when he pulled out the blanket he had bundled under his shirt.

"I promised you wouldn't have to get wet," he grinned, throwing the blanket around the smaller man's shoulders.

"You…?"

"Don't make me a liar, now. Make sure to cover your head." With another grin and a wink, he ran back into the downpour to open the passenger side door for Aya. A part of him wondered if Aya would even accept the thoughtful courtesy he offered – he was pleasantly surprised.

Aya buckled himself in and began to neatly fold the blanket as Yohji slid into the driver's seat.

"You can just throw it in the back," Yohji told him, watching his mirrors for a chance to pull out.

"Why do you keep a blanket in the car?"

Questions were a million times better than silence any day of the week.

"Oh, you know," Yohji shrugged. "If the heater breaks of I run out of gas in the winter. Or…if I happen to be out with some hot babe and we decide to do some snuggling in some secluded wooden spot…"

"Kudoh."

He laughed, just glad that Aya was no longer ignoring him.

Despite the fact that Aya seemed to be over his anger at him, Yohji was still surprised when, as he came to a stop at a red light, he felt Aya's fingers in his hair.

"Aya?" a thrill went down his spine as he heard the other man give a soft, quiet laugh.

"You're soaked."

"Hey, people can say whatever they want about me, but I've never once been accused of slacking when it comes to impressing a sexy piece of…"

"Kudoh."

"Sorry!" he lauged.

Aya's hand dropped from his hair as the light turned green again. After a few moments passed in silence, Yohji chanced a glance at him.

"You mad at me again?"

"…no."

"Where do you want to eat? I need to know where I'm driving."

"You choose."

"Yeah?"

A nod. Yohji turned his blinker on. "All right," he said, "You trust 'ole Yotan. I'm gonna show you a great time, baby."

"Did…" Aya hesitated. "Did you really mean those things you said in the shop?"

"Are we being honest, Aya? Because if we are, then I have a question for you to answer first."

Again, hesitation.

"Yes. Okay." Aya agreed at last.

"Is it the fact that I date a lot that makes you doubt me, or the fact you don't see yourself as desireable?"

"I…I'm not sure."

"I date around, but when I'm with someone, Aya…I try my best to be honest. I won't tell someone I love them just to get sex, I won't promise forever if I'm already seeing someone else, and I don't tell someone I like him if I'm just after some ass."

"I see. Thank you."

"You still don't want to believe me."

"I wouldn't want to believe you no matter who you were," Aya answered quietly, turning his attention out the window.

"It's not as if _I'm_ the one chasing _you_. Dating was your idea, Mr. Too-Anitisocial-To-Function. Shouldn't _you_ be pursuing _me_, and not the other way around?"

Aya made some kind of noncommittal sound.

"Are you afraid?" Yohji asked, trying to keep his attention on the road.

"Afraid?"

"I was thinking about it, and I realized that it's massively impressive that you were able to hit on me in the first place."

"I didn't hit on you."

"You said you were interested. That's as close to a hit-on as you've ever come. It must be very difficult for you, but you haven't done much to follow through. I'm not complaining or anything…but I _was_ wondering if you were frightened and maybe that's why you haven't done anything else."

Aya didn't answer.

"I don't mind taking the reigns. I'm more than happy to be in charge if that's what you want," Yohji chanced a glance at his companion, but Aya's attention was still somewhere out the window. He could very well have stopped listening. "But remember that talk we had? You have to give a little, too. You can't just sit there and expect me to read your mind."

Still no answer. Aya jumped when Yohji laid a hand on his knee.

"Aya? Are you still with me?"

"Yes."

"And?"

No answer.

Yohji sighed, loudly, and pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant he had chosen. Aya was out of the car and heading for the doors before the blonde had even shut off the engine. He'd gone without any kind of cover, but didn't seem to notice the now-pouring rain.

Yohji found him waiting for him just inside the doors, arms crossed and face unreadable. He moved away when Yohji reached for him.

The restaurant wasn't fancy, but it was dark and quiet. Yohji often came here alone on days when the shop was too crowded with squealing teenaged girls for him to think clearly.

He managed to get them a small corner booth and was pleased, as he sat down, that the place was nearly empty this afternoon. It was still a little early for lunch, and the rain had probably made many other patrons rethink going out to eat.

He was looking over the menu, trying to decide whether to have his usual or try something new, when Aya spoke.

"I don't like being grabbed."

Yohji looked up, but the small man's eyes were on the table.

"When I'm angry," Aya clarified. "I don't like being grabbed when I'm angry. I…don't like it."

"What about when you're not mad?"

"I…" he hesitated. "I'm not sure."

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to tell when you're pissed?"

"I'm sorry. I'm…trying."

"One day I want to know what happened to make you so closed off, Aya."

He looked up, horrified, and Yohji hurried to reassure him.

"Not today!" remembering, almost too late, that Aya had said he didn't like to be grabbed, Yohji froze in the act of reaching for him and laid his hand, palm up, on the table. "When you're comfortable. Okay?"

Aya didn't agree, but he didn't disagree, either.

Slowly, however, he reached out and placed his hand on top of Yohji's. The blonde interlaced their fingers, squeezing gently, and smiled. Aya, when he lifted his head, looked so vulnerable and hopeful and frightened that Yohji almost began to dread the day he learned the dark secrets that waited in his past. Anything that could make such a strong-willed man look like a child had to be unbearably horrible.

"So next time I piss you off, I shouldn't grab you," Yohji grinned. "Check. Any other advice you feel up to giving, you go right ahead."

"Are we ready to order?" a perky waitress asked, approaching. Aya tried to pull his hand out of Yohji's, but the blonde wouldn't let him.

"Do you know what you want, Aya?" he asked, smiling.

Dropping his eyes, the small man shook his head.

"Can you come back in a little while?" Yphji asked the waitress. She blushed, agreed, and hurried away. Only then did Yohji let Aya have his hand back, and the lovely redhead quickly hid himself behind his menu.

Yohji couldn't help but to laugh.

"So then are you gonna let me take you out tonight?" he asked. As he picked up his own menu, he noticed just the smallest pink blush spread across Aya's face.

"If the rain doesn't stop, I'm staying in."

"Ooooh. We could snuggle on the couch."

Aya glared over the top of his menu. "This relationship is nowhere near a 'snuggling' stage."

"Aya! I'm flattered! You called it a relationship!"

Blush growing darker, he ducked back behind the menu. "I told you that was what I wanted," he said defensively. His voice was cold now, and it sounded like he was having to force the words out of his mouth.

"There's some other stuff I wouldn't mind you telling me, if you could be so kind as to oblige."

"I…"

"Talking doesn't hurt, Aya. Not physically, unless your sick or something, and not emotionally – not while I'm here. Nothing you say is going to get made fun of or spread around – and if or when we get around to the personal stuff, you've got a pair of arms more than willing to hold you."

Aya didn't answer. After several moments of silence, Yohji shrugged.

"No answer means I get to assume whatever I want," he reminded him. "What I really want to know is why you decided to do this."

"Do what?"

"Chase after me, you Casanova, you!"

The blush flared. Yohji found he was highly enjoying himself – watching Aya fidget was far too rare a treat.

"I already told you that!" Aya bit out.

"But I want more. You were lonely and I seemed to care about you personally. You want to try for a relationship – but I need to know more."

"You want to talk this into the ground!"

"Humor me."

"What the hell do you want, Kudoh?" Aya demanded. "Do you want me to flatter you by telling you how attracted I've been to you since the day we met? Tell you that out of the whole team, I'd rather have you watching my back than any of the others? Tell you that no one in a long time has ever bothered to see me like you do?"

Again Yohji snatched up Aya's hand. The man's glare was fierce, but so was his blush.

"My point was that you can't say you want a relationship and then refuse to talk to me and get mad every time I touch you." Yohji smiled as, eyes growing large, Aya realized that he had been tricked. "I know that it's hard for you, but you have to make an effort, okay?"

Aya stared at him long enough that Yohji began to wonder if his gambol would end in bloodshed.

The waitress returned and took their orders and still Aya hadn't spoken.

tbc

I'm wondering if anyone out there could oblige me with some help with Side B, as translations have become impossible to find. What I really need are good character descriptions, information on any really important character-related events -- stuff like that. I would be forever grateful.

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

CaT70 - Wow. They rank right up there with chai? (lol) I love it when Yohji and Aya get to play like they did last chapter. It's all too rare an experience...(le sigh.)


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry for the wait. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Yohji was _itching_ to tease Aya.

The longer they sat in silence, the worse the urge grew. Part of him wondered what was wrong with him that he needed to turn everything into innuendo. Part of him was a little worried about the fact that, ever since they had decided to date, he hadn't been able to leave Aya alone.

No…

No, that wasn't right, was it? He'd been going out of his way to annoy Aya since the day they had met. He'd increased that lately, but not because of their new relationship. It had all started the night he had sat in Aya's room, cleaning his wounds.

"How are you, anyway?"

He'd blurted it out without thought, and cleared his throat uncomfortably as Aya raised his eyes from the salad he'd been picking over to give him a flat, unfriendly look.

"What?" the small swordsman asked.

"I was just thinking – about those injuries I cleaned for you. Remember?"

"That was almost two months ago."

"I know. But…you know. How are you?"

"What are you trying this time, Kudoh?"

"Look – it's taking every last scrap of control I have not to tease you about saying you want me at your back. Least you could do is appreciate the fact that I'm trying to distract myself with real conversation."

"I'm fine." Aya ducked his head, attention once more on his food. "Healed normally. You…did a good job. I should have thanked you."

"Aren't you just the cutest thing?"

"Kudoh."

"Sorry," he grinned.

As the silence fell again, he felt better.

"You…" Aya hesitated. "You really think you're going to be able to put up with me?"

"_Me_ put up with _you_? You're the one on the verge of violence here," he laughed. "I know I irritate the hell out of you, but I just can't help it."

"No, I…" Aya took a deep breath. It seemed he had to force himself as he looked up again. He had that stubborn look which meant he had made up his mind. "I know that I'm difficult, and that…that I'm not very fair and I expect you to just sense what I want you to do. I know…I know that I'm lucky you're even entertaining this idea and that…that I…"

"Aya, stop it! I wasn't trying to say any of that!"

"But we both know it's true."

Yohji didn't know how to respond. Some of it _was_ true.

"I…I can't move as quickly as I know you're used to. It…it's going to take me a little longer that you might like to be able to open up to you or feel comfortable with physicality or…or any of the other…"

"Aya! Aya, stop it, okay? Stop…look, _I'm_ the one, okay? I _am_ used to going faster and I've just been an idiot about everything."

"Yohji…"

"Don't try to change yourself, Aya. I'm the one threatening this. You are who you are and I am who I am. Neither of us needs to change – we just have to remember to try to understand each other."

Aya nodded hesitantly.

"I…I think I can try that."

"Yeah?"

"I'll remember that you're a very physical person, and you'll remember that I'm…"

He stopped as Yohji reached to take his hand.

"I like you, Aya. I promise you – this is going to be worth it. If you can learn to trust me, and I can learn to be patient and let you move at your own pace…I feel like we can really have something great."

Aya looked down once more. "What does it mean if that completely terrifies me?"

"I don't know."

"What if I can't do this?"

"Aya…okay, I have an idea."

He waited a moment, but Aya didn't say anything. The man did, however, stare at him as he rose.

"Scoot over."

Aya did as asked, eyes large and staring as Yohji moved to sit beside him on the other side of the booth.

"Here's what I think," he began.

"Are we ready for dessert?"

Yohji felt the urge to glare as the waitress interrupted him. She had been extra attentive all throughout the meal, and it was becoming increasingly clear that is wasn't a tip she was interested in.

Yohji ordered some kind of brownie dessert and two coffees, just because he could see that Aya was about to say no and he didn't want their time to end yet. As the waitress walked away, Yohji turned his attention back to Aya. The small man was tense, and had pressed himself as far away from Yohji as he could. His eyes were locked on the table.

"Can we keep talking, or do I need to move?"

Aya didn't answer. Eventually he gave a small shrug.

Yohji decided to stay exactly where he was.

"Okay, so let me tell you my idea," he said, fighting the urge to reach for him. He wanted to comfort Aya, make him relax with him, but knew that they weren't yet close enough for even that much. "Are you sure you're okay? I'll move back if you're too uncomfortable to listen."

Aya shook his head.

"I'm fine," he bit out. "What did you decide?"

"I didn't decide. You can say no."

"Just spill it."

"We're both serious about this, but…we clearly still have a few issues to…"

"No."

"Let me finish."

"That isn't what I'm saying." Aya looked up, glaring. "I just want you to be honest. It isn't 'our' issues holding us back – it's mine. Say it."

"Fine. _You_ clearly have a few issues we need to find a way around if we're going to get anywhere."

"And?"

"We should spend time together."

"What do you call this?"

"No, I…I mean we should make sure we take time every day to just…push you a little – so you can feel comfortable getting close to me. Ease you into it, you know? I think in the mornings, maybe – so that when we go out at night, we'll both know where things stand. I'll know how far we can go, and we won't get into a fight and ruin an actual date."

"What…" Aya looked away, swallowing nervously. "What _exactly_ are you proposing?"

Yohji reached out. Gently he brushed long strands of hair out of Aya's eyes.

"Just…something like this," he said quietly. "Let me be close to you for a few minutes. We don't even have to talk – just something to let you get comfortable with letting me close. Do you think you could do that?"

He waited, pulling his fingers slowly through Aya's hair. At last the man nodded.

"I can…I can only promise to try."

"Thank you."

They were quiet for a few moments. Yohji slid his hand down, resting his fingers lightly across the back of Aya's neck.

"This okay?" he asked.

"Y…yes."

With his other hand, he reached for Aya's, entwining their fingers.

"This?"

Aya only nodded, looking embarrassed.

Yohji raised Aya's hand to his lips, kissing it gently. He turned it over, kissed his palm, and watched him shiver.

"Th…That…" Aya began.

The waitress returned with their dessert and the bill, and her eyes grew bright at the sight of them.

"No hurry," she assured them with a wink.

Aya quickly drew his hand away and stared down at the table as the waitress made absolutely sure there was nothing else they needed. Ignoring the phone number splayed blatantly across the bill, Yohji got rid of her as soon as he could.

"I told you I don't like coffee," Aya said quietly as she left.

"I know. Don't think I forgot."

Aya's glare accused him of lying. "Go back to your side of the table."

"Just wait, okay? I remembered, but I want you to try it again." Reaching for the cream and the sugar, Yohji began to fix the cup in front of Aya. "Number one, I want to keep you here for as long as possible. Number two, coffee is really good with something rich and sweet like the brownie."

The contents of Aya's mug were now a soft fawn color. Yohji handed it back to him with his most charming grin.

"So try a bit of dessert and then take a sip and if you still completely hate it, we can leave this very second."

Aya stared, almost accusingly, at the mug for several long moments. When he at last spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I…don't want to leave yet."

Yohji felt his grin become a smile. Something inside him felt very light at those words. "Okay," he said. "We don't have to leave if you don't like it – but I still want you to try it."

Nodding, Aya picked up his fork.

The 'brownie' was a very large square – spongy and moist and covered liberally with ice cream, chocolate sauce, and caramel. Aya looked at it as if he suspected it would grow fangs and attack him.

"A _real_ bite, Aya," Yohji reminded him, laughing as the man crinkled his nose at the plate.

He nodded once more, looking like a man sentenced to death, and followed Yohji's instructions with obvious reluctance. The blonde waited, oddly entranced by Aya's long, graceful hands, his soft, lovely mouth, the way his long, dark lashes looked against his pale cheeks.

Yohji had been with a lot of men and women in his life. Some of them had been as inexperienced as he thought Aya was, but most had not. Yohji was willing to be flexible when it came to sex – he'd happily played the part of seduced and seducer, dominant and submissive, pursuer and pursued – the truth was, Yohji got off on the pleasure of his partner. As long as the other person was happy, _Yohji_ was happy.

Watching restrained, controlled, unreadable Aya show _any_ sign of pleasure was thrilling – and to be perfectly honest, Yohji had _never_ see anyone look quite as desirable as Aya did when his eyes bit up with surprised joy.

It was almost frightening how addicted Yohji was beginning to find the man. It was almost terrifying to think of how very quickly he had begun to care for him.

Aya lowered the mug after taking a sip of coffee, and his vibrant violet eyes turned on Yohji filled with that soft, beautiful warmth that the blonde had begun to crave so desperately.

"It's good!" he said, and for a moment Yohji knew he was looking at Aya the way the man must have been once, a very long time ago, before something terrible had happened to turn him into the cold, damaged man he now was. "Yohji?"

He took the mug from Aya's pale hands and set it aside. Aya only stared at him, looking, for the moment, unbelievably innocent as Yohji gently cupped his face in his hands.

When he kissed Aya, it was with the quiet knowledge that he was sealing his fate. It was a gentle, chaste kiss – soft and slow and sweet. Aya's lips tasted like the coffee and dessert he had just tried, byt there was something else there, too – some warmth, some sweetness that had to be, simply, _Aya_. His mouth was so soft and yielding, so submissive to Yohji's will, so trusting and innocent and untried.

Yohji realized, as he gently pulled away, that he never wanted to kiss anyone else. Though they'd been struggling, each trying to understand the odd attraction that seemed to pull at them so powerfully, and though Yohji wasn't even sure that he and Aya even technically counted as _friends_ yet, Yohji knew, absolutely _knew_, that this was _it_.

Staring at the soft, startled expression on Aya's face – that beautiful, exotic face – Yohji knew.

Aya was what he'd been searching his entire life for.

* * *

tbc

The next chapter is going to be a little different than what you're used to with this fic. Hope you like it.

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

Caitlebug - I think he's always adorable...even when he's being an ass. The softness is also due to the fact that this story is set pre-Taketori's death. In the cannon, he seems to me to only really shut down after that part. Meh - personal interpretation.

CaT70 - lol. Thanks. Hm...when I used to work in fast food we had an adorable transvestite who used to come by, but I don't remember any actual couples...ah well.

glinwulf - They don't bother me, it's just that I have no intention of fixing them and don't really care. (grins) Putting Aya and Yohji in a room together and just 'watching' them talk is incredibly entertaining for me. If I could get away with it, it's all I would ever write.


	14. Chapter 14

I warned you that this chapter was a little different.

* * *

Yohji's lips were…warm.

He filled his senses – every last inch of him. His scent – spicy sweet, bright, warm – like the morning breeze coming off the ocean combined with the lingering aroma of cigarettes and alcohol filled his entire world. His taste was rich, heady, irresistible as it lingered on his lips. The sound of his soft, warm chuckle as he pulled away banished all darkness.

And then there was the feel of him – so very warm and inviting, like a fire searing away the cold.

"Now," Yohji breathed, sliding a hand back through Aya's hair. "_That_ was definitely worth waiting for."

It felt so strange to be touched. Strange, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.

No, Aya decided, leaning into it as Yohji once more stroked a hand through his hair. Not unpleasant at all.

"Wouldn't you agree?" Yohji asked, eyes gleaming mischievously.

'Choosing' Yohji Kudoh had been more of an accident than a choice. As far as Aya was concerned, he'd had very little say in the matter. He had tried to fight it, but the damned man had just been so persistent. It may have been Aya's idea, but Yohji was determined to see it through.

When they had first met, Aya had been little more than a ghost. The fact that his physical body was, technically, still living – was walking and breathing, rather than rotting in the grave it deserved – meant absolutely nothing. Ran Fujimiya had died the day his world had shattered, and the fact that his body had yet to catch on mattered less than nothing.

Krittiker knew him far too well: he wasn't an employee, but a weapon. An unsheathed blade waiting to be used did not care who it cut or when it was discarded. Those who met him, from employers to teammates, instinctively knew this about him, even if they didn't recognize that they knew it.

Everyone, that was, until Yohji Kudoh.

Never once had the blonde acknowledged that his quiet, unfriendly team leader was nothing more than a weapon. _Yohji_ had been the one to name him Aya, and by doing so give him his first real hope of life in years. It was _Yohji_ who had taught the rest of Weiss, through example, to treat him as human. Ken and Omi were good men, but they probably would not have ever looked twice at their resident ghost had Yohji not so brashly harassed him that first day.

And knew that was the reason he'd always been so attracted to the lanky blonde. Before Kudoh, he had always been content to waste away…but…being alive again…

Being alive again felt amazing.

So when Yohji recently began forcing even more life into Weiss' ghost, Aya had found himself becoming a little…addicted. Permitting – perhaps even _encouraging_ – Yohji's sudden attempts at friendship had led to the blonde not only encouraging him to date, but also offering to find him partners. Aya had realized, with the surprise of a waking sleepwalker, that the man was an _entirely_ physical being.

The only way to keep him, and the life he brought, close, Aya needed to tie himself to the man physically.

Aya had made his decision. He was even happy with his choice. The prospect of living again gave him more hope than he'd felt in _years_.

And although he knew he didn't deserve this life – didn't deserve to enjoy it or anything in it – he _liked_ feeling human again.

And he liked Yohji.

"Aya?" the blonde asked, hand falling away. "You still in there?"

He blinked, coming back to himself quickly, and his companion gave a small laugh.

"Guess I'm a better kisser than I thought," he murmured, smiling warmly. It wasn't just the way Yohji treated him that made him so dangerously irresistible to Aya – it was important to remember how devastatingly distracting his _appearance_ could be.

Aya looked away, wrapping his hands around the mug of coffee in the hope that its warmth would be enough to distract him from the other man's vibrant fire.

It didn't help.

He shivered at the feel of those long fingers pulling slowly through his hair. Yohji's body was like a furnace next to his – sitting so close, so warm, breathing life back into his own dead flesh.

"If you want me to go back to my own side of the table, just say so," Yohji murmured, his tone more serious now. Aya's body acted without permission from his mind – relaxing into the other man's soothing touch. "I'm willing to go as slowly as I need to if that's what it takes to keep you from getting scared."

"I'm not scared," Aya mumbled.

No, 'scared' wasn't a strong enough word. He felt too close to being happy.

He was _terrified_.

In a way, it would have been easier if he wasn't so sure Kudoh was being honest with him. He _wished_ he could summon the will to decide he was lying.

Fighting to feel alive again meant fighting against every instinct he'd spent the past several years cultivating. He couldn't readily accept pleasure – he knew he didn't deserve it. If he could convince himself that Kudoh was lying about wanting something real with him, then the guilt he felt about enjoying the man's company would have been far more manageable.

Yohji wasn't lying to him. Yohji wanted a _real_ relationship.

"What was that?"

"I said I'm not scared."

Worse than guilt – and the truly frightening thing about the entire situation – however, was the fact that, to keep Yohji close, to give him the relationship he wanted, Aya was going to have to do two things he hadn't done for anyone since the day he became a murderous shadow.

He was going to have to open up to Yohji.

And he was going to have to _trust_ him.

"Aya?"

He opened his eyes, not even realizing he'd closed them. Lifting his head, he looked at Yohji.

The blonde smiled.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"You…were speaking?"

Yohji laughed. Brushing hair out of Aya's eyes, he kissed his forehead gently before rising and moving back to the other side of the table.

"Let's finish this up and head back," he suggested, motioning to the brownie.

Aya nodded, but was hesitant to reach for his fork. His sister used to tease him about his weakness for sweets; he'd barely touched sugar since her 'accident.' It was another one of life's joys that he had taken care to deny himself. Aya-chan couldn't enjoy them, and so what right did he have? It was a small price to pay if it did anything at all to make up for surviving.

But it had tasted so _good_…

"Come on," Yohji urged. "What – you want me to feed you?"

He stared at him in horror. No, he certainly did _not_ want to be fed.

"I'm full," he stated.

Yohji frowned. "Don't go all cold on me now," he said, nearly pouting. "We were doing so well!"

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot."

"Aya…" he made the name a sigh. The blonde wasn't a fool – he could see that Aya was more than willing to step back and take away all of the progress they'd managed to make today.

The fact he was able to read him so well was both terrifying and attractive.

"Just have a little more," Yohji pled at last.

"I don't want it."

"Why the hell are you so determined not to enjoy _anything_?"

The question hit far too close to home.

Glaring, Aya picked up his fork.

* * *

They stood together under the restaurant's wide awning, watching the rain pouring down.

"It's really started to storm, huh?" Yohji asked. Aya suspected that the man was only stating the obvious in order to have an excuse to break the silence.

Aya grunted, wrapping his arms around himself.

"I'll run get the car," Yohji offered. "You wait here."

"What?"

He grinned down at him. "I promised you wouldn't get wet, right? I'll be right back."

"Wait!" Aya's hand lashed out, gripping Yohji's arm. The blonde stared at his hand for a long moment before stepping close to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Don't…don't bother."

"What? It's no problem."

"I'm not going back to the shop right now."

Some teens, screaming playfully and running in an attempt to escape the rain, hurried under the awning with them. As they stood, laughing and trying to wring themselves out, Aya stepped closer to Yohji.

"Won't Ken be expecting you back for the rest of your shift?" Yohji asked as the other people began to at last head into the restaurant. "It's not like you to skip out on work."

Their bodies weren't touching, but still, standing so close to the man, Aya felt warm.

"With the rain, we won't be busy," he stated. And Aya had worked solo on busy days due to such excuses as 'the game ran over,' 'we went out to celebrate our victory,' and 'I lost track of time' too many times for the athlete to dare to become cross with him for not returning to work. "I…have something I need to do."

"Then I'll come with you."

"I need to do it alone."

"Then let me give you a ride."

He shook his head, forcing himself to step away from the man.

"I'll call a cab," he said.

"What – so you're done with me for today?"

He shook his head. "I'll see you tonight."

Still the blonde hesitated. Aya scowled.

"Kudoh."

"It's just…" Yohji's hand rose as if to touch him, then fell away harmlessly. "I have you _now_. How do I know if you'll be this sweet tonight?" he sharpened his glare, and Yohji laughed. "Okay!" he relented. "Okay! So you're not sweet. You sure I can't give you a ride?"

"_Goodbye_, Yohji."

"At least you're not last-naming me," he chuckled. "I guess I'd _better_ quit while I'm ahead."

Aya had been hoping for another kiss, but Kudoh was clearly unwilling to take the risk. The blonde only smiled at him warmly, and waved, and strode off jauntily into the rain.

* * *

It always struck him how small she looked. It was painful – a true, physical pain – each time he saw her so still, so silent. Sometimes, with an ache so powerful it stole his breath, his traitorous mind told him that this deep, endless sleep was a crueler fate than death for such a bright, lively girl.

"Aya…"

Her hand was cold in his, and small, and so very pale. There was no substance to her – her skin felt as thin as paper, and looked nearly translucent. He often heard the nurses complain about how easily she bruised when they changed her IV or tried to bathe her.

"Forgive me," he whispered, and his voice broke a little.

He was so lost.

Aya had been living like a dead man. He felt like the walking dead – lumbering after those responsible for his pain, starving for revenge. His was the only life to continue, and he used it to walk in shadows.

He knew vengeance would not open his sister's eyes. He knew retribution would not bring their parents back from the grave.

And he knew the terrible evil he committed by stealing the lives of others. By bloodying his hands, he forfeited forever the right to be in his beloved sister's life, should she ever wake.

He had made his decision, and there was no going back. What was a little more guilt staining his soul?

"I think…I really like him."

Every night he dreamed of her. Waking at last, she ran to him, laughter and joy in her face. She embraced him tightly and he could feel her arms around him, and he could feel her love, and then she pulled away and stared at her hands, and they came away red from the blood that stained him.

He deserved his ghostly existence. He had been content to suffer in the darkness and the solitude he earned with his actions. The life Yohji Kudoh brought to him was far from what he deserved. He was tempting the fates by daring to look for _anything_ that could make him feel good or safe or happy.

But…

"I can't fight him," he whispered, pressing his hand to her cheek. "I can't fight myself."

He had taken on the burden of their family's vengeance. He had sworn to give up everything – his life, his very soul – in its pursuit. Would he ever be forgiven for breaking his vow?

"I didn't mean to let this happen," he told her still, silent form.

* * *

The rain was falling harder than ever by the time he left her side. He had reached no conclusions. He felt no peace.

Aya walked home – inviting destruction. He wanted to freeze, to be numb. Surely he could a place where Kudoh's brightness couldn't reach him – couldn't threaten all he had come to know.

The shop lights were sill on, and he could see two silhouettes moving around inside. It was a safe bet that Ken had sat around doing nothing until he realized it was nearly closing time, and now he was having to hurry to get everything done – perhaps even sanctioning Omi's help. Aya wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed.

He went in through the back door, unwilling either to be roped into helping or yelled at for failing to finish out his shift. All he wanted was a hot shower and a quiet, dark room where he would be alone with his thoughts – where he could continue to dwell on his conflicting desires. He never had managed to achieve a state of completely zero emotions. His grief for his family never left him – that aching loneliness, that impenetrable darkness, that insatiable yearning.

He headed though the kitchen and up the stairs as quickly and as silently as possible, desperately hoping he didn't run into anyone. Especially Kudoh. The man would only confuse him all over again.

He had barely stepped into the bedroom when he realized that something was wrong. The light was on, the linens on the bed were disturbed – as if someone had sat on them. Alarm flashed in his mind seconds before something came down over his head, obscuring his vision.

Something akin to panic bubbled up within him when he heard the door close and the lock turn. Clawing at the cloth that covered his head, Aya rounded on the unknown assailant, striking out even before he could see anything.

The blow must have been wild. A strong hand caught his wrist easily but, by touching him, the attacker betrayed his location. Abandoning his attempting to free himself from the blindfold, he struck out with his other fist.

He heard a grunt, but that hand was caught as well, and the hold was transferred to the hand holding his other one. Though he pulled and fought, he couldn't get free.

And then the cloth fell away.

Yohji raised his eyebrows, grinning at him mockingly. "Hell, Aya – you are a _vicious _little bastard, aren't you?" he asked lightly.

Pulling one arm free, Aya punched him, hard, in the jaw.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded as the blonde stumbled back. He was _glad_ to be angry. Anger he could deal with.

"Damn it, Aya! You gonna kill me for being _worried_ about you?"

"I might!"

They stared at each other for several long moments. Yohji's grin returned slowly.

"You're soaked," he said, bending to pick up the towel and throw it back over Aya's head. "You _walked_ home through this rain? Masochistic bastard."

"Were you up here _waiting_ for me?" he demanded.

"Nah – I saw you through the window. Thought it'd be a good chance to get you alone again if I were willing to help you dry off."

"So you _were_ waiting."

"Call it whatever you want," he shrugged, reaching forward to scrub at Aya's hair with the towel. "Damn but you're _soaked_, Aya!"

The smaller man merely stared warily.

"Why are you here?" Aya snapped at last. He _was_ soaked, and though the weather had been turning cooler, the air conditioner was running. He should have felt cold – _wanted_ to feel cold – but he didn't. Kudoh's warmth was too persuasive.

"Gods, but your shivering!" Yohji said, avoiding the question as he slid his hands down to Aya's shoulders and rubbed them vigorously. Heat seemed to radiate from him in waves.

Aya continued to stare at him.

"Kudoh," he said. "Why-are-you-here?"

He met his eyes. Grinned.

"I couldn't help myself," he said, in some mock parody of sheepishness. "I told you I was addicted."

"Stupid," Aya whispered, looking away.

* * *

tbc

Aya has...issues.

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

met - oh, dear. How did you do it? (grins) Thanks.

tkmaxwell777 - thanks! I'm so glad you're enjoying...

CaT70 - gasp! Are the two fics...trying to out-cute each other? The CD dramas actually say that he slept with a girl in high school, surprisingly enough. I think he was just trying to be 'normal' for his family, and plan to use it in a fic some day.

Henna - thanks!

Thanks again, everyone!


	15. Chapter 15

Sorry for the wait.

* * *

Aya stared at him so _strangely_ sometimes. As if he were a creature totally beyond his understanding. As if he half suspected that, at any moment, some horrible monster would burst forth and devour him. Frightened, but also interested. Wary but intrigued.

At least, that was how Yohji had begun to interpret that particular look. Aya wasn't frowning enough for it to mean 'curl-up-and-die.'

He slid his hands from his shoulders to begin the task of unbuttoning Aya's shirt; he was anxious to get the trembling man out of his dripping clothes and into something warm. He had never once seen the man get sick, but he was so thin and so negligent when it came to his own health that the blonde had serious doubts about his immune system.

He paused a few buttons down and rolled his eyes back up to Aya's face. The smaller man's expression was completely blank.

Yohji attempted a playful grin.

"Am I gonna get stabbed for this?"

Aya hesitated, looking away. Soundlessly, he shook his head.

Yohji slid the shirt down Aya's pale, slender shoulders and Aya did nothing either to help or hinder him. He didn't so much as twitch when Yohji walked away – although he did give a small jump when Yohji returned, throwing a thick blanket from the bed over his shoulders.

He stayed behind the smaller man, hoping his own body would a little extra warmth as he, half-embracing him, helped him out of his slacks and boxers.

He almost made a joke about having expected the next time he got him naked to be under much more pleasant circumstances, but wisely held his tongue. Aya had grown too quiet and pliant under his hands – teasing him would be a betrayal of trust.

He circled an arm around his waist as the smaller man dully kicked away his wet clothing.

"Your skin is like ice," he frowned. "How long were you out walking in this mess?"

He didn't answer.

He _did_ lean further into Yohji's arms. The blonde tightened his embrace.

"Is this helping?" Yohji asked.

"Yes," Aya's voice was nearly a whisper.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," he answered again. His voice was even more quiet this time.

Yohji nuzzled his neck, frowning thoughtfully. "You don't want me to ask where you went to today," he said finally.

"It's personal," Aya stated.

Yohji tightened his hold on him, pressing even closer. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm…" Aya hesitated. "_Happy_."

Yohji didn't have the chance to respond. A knock came at the door, and then the doorknob jiggled loudly.

"Aya?" Ken called from the hallway. "Aya, you gotta open the door. Manx is here, and - !" Ken's voice cut off with a strangled noise when _Yohji_ opened the door. The athlete grew very pale, then very red. "What are you doing in here?"

"And with the door locked. Gee. I wonder."

Clutching his blanket tightly around himself, Aya began to push at Yohji to get him out the door. "Tell Manx I'm getting changed," he said, and slammed the door in their faces.

"Well, that was a damned quick mood shift," Yohji mumbled, glaring at the door.

Ken was staring at him in horror – a look he ignored as he took out his cigarettes and lit one. He was going to need a lot more than nicotine if Aya was going to keep running hot and cold like this.

After a few moments, he at last turned his attention to the still-gaping Ken.

"Well," he drawled. "We better get going. It's rude to keep a lady waiting, after all."

"Yohji…"

"And you better not mention any of this to her, either."

Ken frowned, coming back to himself with a stubborn look. "I won't say anything," he promised. "But you better give me an explanation!"

"What's to explain?" Yohji asked with a careless shrug, heading for the stairs. "I'm dating Aya. I think."

"How the hell is that something that _doesn't_ need to be explained?" Ken demanded, following.

* * *

"Damn it," Yohji sighed, throwing his head back and staring up at the ceiling. "I'm starting to think that woman _lives_ to destroy my weekends!"

Omi, returning from walking Manx to the door, came halfway down the stairs and stopped. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room," he announced with clear reluctance. "I need to get a head start on my homework…sounds like there won't be much time for it later…"

"That's one way of putting it," Yohji grumbled.

As far as missions went, this one seemed like pretty standard business: integrate the bad guys' business, find said bad guy and all his little accomplices, and take care of all the guilty parties. Between the surveillance work, the actual killing, and the clean-up, though, even the most run-of-the-mill missions could be time-consuming as hell.

It was even worse when Krittiker left orders that the work be taken care of without shutting down or cutting back hours at the shop.

Yohji understood that closing or changing hours too often was suspicious. That was why he so often wished they didn't _have_ the stupid cover. When they had to fit a mission around the damned flowershop, it was stressful as hell. Even _Omi_ got bitchy.

"I had a game planned this weekend!" Ken remembered with a groan. Hurling himself from his seat, he rushed up the stairs after Omi to grab the phone.

They would be going non-stop this weekend. Omi would be force-feeding them all protein to keep their energy up, there would be _fierce_ battles over the coffee maker, and getting Aya alone on a 'real' date would have to be pushed off for yet _another_ week.

Yohji let his eyes drift over to Aya at the thought. The man had dressed himself in baggy sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt, and looked amazingly warm, snuggly, and adorable. He hadn't spoken a word during the mission briefing, other than when he accepted the assignment.

It was strange – the feelings he felt when he looked at the smaller man. The lengths he was willing to go to in order to fight for a relationship that hadn't even _started_ yet.

_Aya_ had begun this, but _Yohji_ felt like he was willing to do almost anything to keep it going. It wasn't about being intrigued by the mystery that was Aya Fujimiya. It wasn't about the fun he had teasing him, the surprising attraction he felt for him, or even the tempting memory of what he had looked like, naked and asleep, that morning after the club. Those things _contributed_ to his feelings, but they weren't the _reason_ for them.

No, the reason had more to do with the way Aya felt in his arms, the sweet smell of his hair, the way he could become so surprisingly gentle and vulnerable…

And the fact that it had felt so amazingly, impossibly _right_ when they had kissed. _That_ was definitely a major factor.

Aya lifted his eyes to meet Yohji's – as if sensing his gaze. Those eyes were utterly unreadable as he stared at him – dark, thoughtful, shadowed – and his face was completely expressionless.

He was surprised when the man rose and moved to join him on the couch. He was even more surprised when Aya silently directed him to wrap his arms around him.

"I thought we weren't ready for snuggling yet," he quipped stupidly.

"Shut up," Aya ordered quietly, resting his head on his shoulder.

Yohji gave a small laugh and did his best to oblige. He tightened his arms carefully around the smaller man and nuzzled his hair and Aya didn't do a thing to stop him.

"Is this about finishing what we started earlier?" he asked at last, suggestively.

"Kudoh."

He laughed. That warning in Aya's tone was fast changing from something to be afraid of to something to enjoy.

"This…" Aya hesitated. "I wanted to thank you for earlier."

"Yeah?"

Aya was silent for several long moments. "I shouldn't have started this," he whispered at last, "But I can't stop myself."

"I'm that irresistible, huh?"

Aya pulled away, glaring. Yohji laughed and pulled him near once more. "I'm teasing you," he said.

"Every step I take with you I'm forcing myself to go against _everything_," Aya stated. This time when he pulled away, he stood up. "I know it's wrong…that I don't deserve…but I'm here, anyway."

"Aya…"

"Don't play with me. Don't make me go through this if it's only a joke."

Yohji rose quickly. "You know it isn't!"

"I _don't_ know, Kudoh – that's the point!"

Yohji caught his arm as he began to leave. "How the hell am I supposed to do this, Aya?" he demanded. "You get mad if I tease you, mad if I'm sincere, and everything I learn about you I have to figure out on my own because you don't tell me shit!"

With a snarl, Aya tried to pull away. Yohji only tightened his grip.

"Maybe _I_ should be the one asking about _your_ motivations!"

Aya stared at him as if he had just said the strangest thing in the world. "I'm the one who started this," he said at last.

"So since it was your idea, you don't have to work at it? That's not fair."

"You're the one who…who knows what you're doing!"

"So I'm supposed to read your mind?"

"I…" Aya looked lost.

Despite his best efforts, Yohji felt his anger drain away. Releasing Aya's arm, he shoved his hands into his pockets in order to keep from reaching for him. Something about Aya made Yohji _want_ to touch him all the time – but he knew that they weren't really at a stage yet where he had the right to do that.

"Is this really the first time you've tried to do something like this?" he asked.

"I went out with Yukio," he began.

"I don't think that counts."

Aya looked away. After several silent moments, he shook his head. "I…" he hesitated. "I've had some missions before where I was supposed to…but I always found a way around it. And there were a few times when I was on my own, before joining Krittiker, when people offered to exchange information for…but I never managed to…"

"Okay," Yohji said, stopping him. So Aya really _hadn't_ been in a real relationship before, and the closest he had come to physicality with another person was in a non-passionate, strictly practical manner. That explained quite a lot.

He attempted a smile, but that lost, almost childlike look on Aya's face did not go away.

"I think I'm beginning to understand," he said. "When you talk to me, it _helps_ me understand."

"I'm sorry…"

"No…I don't know your story, Aya, but…it's clear you've been through a lot. I just have to remember to be patient."

"I'm sorry."

"Will you stop that?" this time, Yohji's smile was more real. "Masochistic bastard. I'm _willing_ to work. I _want_ this. I want _you._"

Yohji laughed at the expression on Aya's face. Stunned, vulnerable, hopeful – he brushed a kiss against his cheek and began heading up the stairs.

"You're going to have to face it, Aya," he said, not looking back. "I like you. _Despite_ your best efforts to stop me."

* * *

Fate was one cruel-hearted bitch. It was a fac Yohji had often reflected on before he had begun his relationship, friendship, whatever-the-hell-it-was he was doing with Aya. The fact that such a gorgeous creature had to possess such a terrible personality had always bothered him.

Of course, _now_ he knew that he had been wrong – at least in that assumption. Aya was sweet and he was funny and he was so deliciously needy – he just hid it frighteningly well.

Still, it was a cruel twist of fate that would place such a lovely man in such a delightfully provocative outfit and then make it impossible for Yohji to molest him.

"I can't afford for anything to distract me during a mission. I can't afford to feel anything." Aya had told him earlier that night. He had pulled Yohji aside and nearly become violent when he'd realized that the blonde had assumed the private moment had been meant for a little pre-work snuggle.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Can't afford to feel anything?"

"I need to have a heart of ice to wield my sword," he'd glared, smacking away the hand that reached for him. "I'm trying to warn you so that you don't get yourself killed."

"I appreciate the warning, but I already knew you were a cold-hearted bastard," Yohji had grinned, reaching for him again.

Aya once again smacked away the offending hand. "The priority is the mission, _not_ you."

"Okay, okay, fine!"

He appreciated the warning. He _liked_ that Aya had _thought_ to warn him, and he hoped that he hadn't pissed him off with his teasing.

True to his word, Aya had been _ice_ ever since they had left for the mission.

And Yohji, true to his nature, had been fixating on the way Aya looked in his mission attire all night. For the first time he found himself regretting that they were trying for a real relationship – regretting that they were going slowly and that he couldn't simply seduce him, rip those clothes from his body, and devour all that silken skin. Images of Aya wearing nothing but those bitch boots had been haunting him all night.

He didn't want to _think_ about how often he'd almost been injured tonight because he'd been distracted fantasizing about Aya.

"Kudoh!" Ken snapped, as he very nearly walked into a hail of bullets. "What the hell are you trying to do?"

Cursing, he let his wire fly. They hadn't had a choice but to trip the alarm – Krittiker wanted as many personal employees of the target killed as possible. It _really_ wasn't the kind of mission for Yohji to be zoning out on.

The guards, unsuspecting of such an unusual weapon, easily became tangled – so hopelessly so, in fact, that Ken had no problem dispatching them quickly. Three had strangled themselves in the wire before he could even reach them.

Yohji's earpiece crackled.

"Balanese – Siberian – everything okay?"

"Just peachy, chibi," he muttered, following Ken as the pissed-off athlete silently headed down the next hall. He and Ken were playing exterminators tonight – going through every level of their target's mansion and killing everyone they found. If Aya did his job right, they need never see the target or his mistress – the swordsman should be taking them out even now. Omi was on the outside, using his crossbow to take out anyone who tried to run from the compound and using a blueprint of the mansion on his laptop as well as tracking devices in their uniforms to guide their movements.

"You guys aren't arguing again, are you?" Omi asked, disapproving. Ken had sniped at Yohji the entire car ride over – irritated that he had not yet received the promised explanation.

"We're _fine_," Ken answered shortly.

"Have you heard from Aya yet?"

"No, he disconnected the line," Omi answered. He didn't sound overly concerned. Aya often shut down communications when he went off alone on missions. It was dangerous, and Krittiker didn't approve, but he claimed that being forced to listen to their 'idiotic chatter' was even more dangerous than separating himself from potential backup. "I'm not showing any more signs of life on that floor," Omi informed them. "Head on to the next one."

"How many floors does this place have?" Ken demanded.

"Just one more," Omi promised. "Just be sure to stay out of Ayan's way."

"Yohji's the one you need to worry about in that respect," the athlete grumbled.

"Fuck you, too, Kenken."

"Yeah – no thanks."

They heard a heavy sigh from Omi, a grumble that sounded suspiciously like the word 'fucktards,' and then silence on the line.

"Ken, do you need a time out?" Yohji asked as they found the stairs.

"Just shut up."

They took the stairs two at a time, immaturely jostling each other to try to cause the other to stumble or even fall. It didn't matter that they were on the job – sometimes they had the tendency to bring out each other's worst qualities.

"Why do you have such a damned problem with it?" Yohji demanded as they jostled each other for the door. "You like him or something?"

"I would never do something so disgusting!"

"What – because we're both men?"

"No – because it threatens Weiss, dumbass!"

Yohji stopped, staring at his glowering teammate. He was about to point out the numerous times Ken's own poor decisions had put their team in danger when a door opened and six more guards decided to make their presences known in a hailstorm of bullets.

* * *

tbc

So sorry for the long wait. No review response this time except to say I'm sorry and I love you all. I know this seems to end at a bad place (especially as I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again...sorry) but it's not really a cliffie. I promise it's not. Er...believe me?


	16. Chapter 16

I owe you guys an apology. I have chapters written long before they ever get posted, and, well, if I'd realized what chapter this is, I wouldn't have made you wait for so long. Please don't be mad – I feel like it's going to be a major let-down when you realize what this chapter is…Um, that is, it's the last chapter of this particular story arc. (winces)

* * *

"Shithead."

"Pervert."

"Ung…jackass…"

"Hooker."

"Hold on a minute. I need a rest."

"Another one?" with an irritated grunt, Ken heaved Yohji's arm off from around his shoulders and shoved him up against the wall. "You're such…a baby!" he huffed, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Uh – excuse me? Bleeding?" Yohji demanded, motioning to his blood-soaked torso.

"Most of that's…not even yours…you baby!"

"Listen to you, all out of breath!" Yohji wheezed. "I thought you were supposed to be…some kind of athlete?"

"You're one…to talk."

"Longtime smoker…remember?"

Yohji was thankful as hell that, knowing they were bound to come under fire, they'd worn Kevlar under their uniforms. Those guards had been well-armed and ready for them. He and Ken had managed to kill them all, but not without taking damage themselves. Yohji still wasn't sure how they'd managed to get away with their lives, much less the very minor injuries they had sustained.

"Balanese? Siberian? You guys aren't out yet?" Omi's voice piped from over their com system. "The explosives are all set."

"Balanese needed to rest his giant ass again," Ken answered sourly.

Aya, finished with his part of the mission, had found them bleeding and griping at one another on his way to the stairs. After ascertaining that they were both going to live, and that they could, in fact, both move under their own power, he'd coldly informed them that they had fifteen minutes to get downstairs or they would be left behind.

And then he had abandoned them. The bastard.

Apparently he decided that _now_ was the right time to remind them of his threat.

"No more playing," he snapped over the headset. "Five more minutes, and we're setting the explosives – with or without you."

* * *

"Fucking hell!" Yohji hissed, half-laughing because, pained and exhausted as he was, laughter and curses were the only things he could manage. He eased himself carefully out of his jacket, cursing again when drying blood pulled at the cloth.

He jumped, moving a little too quickly, when the door banged open.

Aya's eyes raked over him once, sharply, and then he closed the door after himself, fingers quickly flicking the lock.

"Sit down," he ordered coldly.

Yohji grinned, noting the first aide kit tucked under the man's arm.

"Aw. You came to patch me up? Darling, I'm flattered."

"Don't be," he answered shortly, shoving him down onto the bed.

"Omi busy with Ken?"

"Omi's too angry to mess with either of you idiots," Aya informed him, grabbing his arm to examine a wound there.

In all, Yohji'd been grazed by three bullets: one in his upper arm, one in his thigh, and a third – the deepest – in his side. Nothing serious – not simply because of luck, but also because his long mission jacket (the body of which was lined with Kevlar) offered him extra protection. Of course, with his navel-area exposed, he was always at a little extra risk, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for the sake of sexiness.

"So you decided to help me first?" Yohji asked, batting his eyelashes.

"He doesn't need any help. I checked."

"Bastard – can't you just _pretend_?" he demanded. "You know – save my ego?"

"No."

Aya's voice was so cold and harsh that Yohji nearly slipped into old habits of letting him brush him aside. Aya was clearly Not In The Mood to be teased tonight. Yohji couldn't pinpoint what it was, exactly, that made this mood any different from any of his other, more usual, ones, just that continuing to tease him would most definitely be a Bad Decision.

Yohji was too tired to try to push him, anyway.

"Did you have any trouble with your part of the mission?" he asked instead.

Aya only grunted.

Clearly he wasn't in the mood to _talk_, either.

Yohji reluctantly let silence fall. Aya's hands were steady and sure and surprisingly careful. He worked quickly and quietly, completely focused on his task.

"I told you…" Aya began suddenly. He stopped, hands pausing.

"Told me?"

"That I couldn't afford to feel during a mission."

"Yeah?"

Aya returned to his task – a little more roughly than necessary.

"So, then, _why_ would you do something so _stupid_?" the small redhead demanded.

It took Yohji a moment to understand.

"You were worried about me?"

Aya didn't answer, instead finishing off the last of Yohji's stitches. When he cut the thread, Yohji reached out, taking hold of his wrist and pulling him around in front of him.

"Hey – you were worried?"

"No." Aya glared and tried to pull away.

Yohji refused to let him.

"Go on and admit it."

"Irresponsible ass!" he snarled. He twisted his hand to grab Yohji and hauled him to his feet. For a moment, Yohji felt nothing but frozen shock, and then he realized that his face was in Aya's hands, and Aya – _Aya_ – was kissing him.

He wrapped his arms around him and – ignoring or forgetting his injuries, fell backwards onto the bed, pulling Aya with him and carefully, stubbornly, refusing to let the kiss end.

Not that Aya was exactly trying to get away.

The man was so _needy_! So _desperate_, so _hungry_, and gods but he tasted _delicious_! Yohji groaned, sliding his hands up to begin pulling off the man's jacket and Aya, with an annoyed grunt, took his hands from Yohji's face only long enough to shrug impatiently out of the garment.

"Want you…" Yohji moaned against his skin, moving his lips to his neck. "Why d'you think I screwed up tonight?" he shoved Aya's shirt up, indulging in running his fingers over those smooth, tight abs, even as he set to devouring his collar bone.

Aya pulled back, frowning at him.

"What?"

Yohji slid his hands along Aya's thighs and grinned at him. "Do you have any idea how sexy you look?" oh, but that expression on Aya's face was _priceless_. "We're gonna _have_ to find a way t' keep me from getting so _distracted_."

Aya sat up, still frowning.

"You got injured…because you were thinking about _me_?"

"Kind of," he grinned.

Somehow, he hadn't been expecting Aya to hit him. How he missed expecting that, he would never know.

"I was _worried_ about you!" Aya snarled, looking murderous.

Yohji worked his now-throbbing jaw, grinning stupidly at him. Aya's eyes narrowed further, his cheeks flushing pink.

"Are you upset because I was irresponsible?" Yohji asked. "Or because you just don't see yourself the way I do?"

"Perverted son of a bitch!"

"Yeah, but you knew that before."

Aya shifted uncomfortably, looked away, crossed his arms. He did not, however, get up.

Yohji rubbed his hands up and down Aya's thighs – less as a gesture of sexual interest and more of comfort this time. He'd found that soothing, repetitive motions were quite effective when the man was upset about something.

"I know I need to be more responsible," he admitted. "I just…got caught by surprise, that's all."

"Surprise," he echoed flatly.

"Yeah – surprise. I didn't expect to have such a strong reaction, that's all." Yohji smiled, hoping to put Aya at ease and maybe, if he was lucky, even bring back whatever-the-hell had made Aya kiss him earlier. "I mean, I've seen you in your mission attire plenty of times…but now that I'm allowed to _want_ you, well…"

"Who the hell ever said you were allowed?"

Yohji pushed himself up on his elbows, grinning up at the man still seated on his hips.

"Comes hand-in-hand with the whole 'dating' thing," he stated.

Aya frowned. "Don't do it again."

"What? Want you?"

"Want me during a mission," he corrected sternly.

"I can't promise that."

"Kudoh!"

Yohji's grin widened. Reaching up, he slid his hand around to the back of Aya's neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

"I don't want you dying because you're a horny bastard," Aya glared, fisting a hand in his hair and yanking his head back. "I'd rather be alone _now_ that have you die after I've started to care about you."

_That_ sobered him.

"Trust me, Aya," he said. "I understand that."

Perhaps it was something in his expression, or some lingering pain in his voice, but Aya's expression softened.

"It's…been a long time since I've been so frightened for someone else," Aya said quietly, rising. Yohji sat up and watched him rifle through the pockets of his jacket, at last producing pain meds and a small water bottle. "I…don't like that feeling."

"No one does," Yohji reassured him. He took the medicine Aya shook into his hand and saluted the smaller man with the water bottle before swallowing them down. "By the way," he said, "I told Ken we were dating."

Aya rubbed the bridge of his nose, his expression annoyed. "Kudoh…"

"What? Bastard wouldn't leave me alone about it. _Still_ won't leave me alone about it. Seems to think the idea is bad for Weiss."

"It _is_ bad for Weiss," Aya scowled.

"Aw, hell. But we're gonna do it anyway, right?"

Aya was silent for a long moment. He stared at Yohji with that damned unreadable expression, his entire body gone still and almost lifeless. Yohji had come a long way since their strange relationship had begun, but he _still_ had problems reading Aya when he went so still and frozen.

If he had learned anything through bugging the man, though, it was that letting that _look_ scare him off was the absolute _worst_ thing he would do.

Yohji rose and, doing his best to ignore the flat, scary look, sidled up close. He wrapped his arms around t smaller man and held him close, nuzzling his neck teasingly.

"Aya?" he asked, swaying his body against the other man's suggestively. "We _are_ going to keep going, aren't we?"

"Yes," Aya whispered. "I would like that."

"You mean that, or you going to take it back later?"

"I mean it," he admitted softly. He hesitated, and then his arms encircled Yohji's waist, his hands cool against the warm, bare skin of his back. He let his head come to rest against the blonde's chest. "I…want to be near you. Whatever that means."

* * *

Yohji had held him – simply _held_ him – until his medicine kicked in. Aya helped him into bed, reluctantly repeated his promise that he wanted to stay with him, and retreated to his own room.

He supposed he was simply weak. He hadn't been able to summon the strength to fight Kudoh's persistence, his humor, or his charm. He hadn't been able to find the willpower to turn away from the comfort and warmth of his touch.

The next morning at breakfast, Aya was greeted by Ken's suspicious glare and Omi, who was still angry over the irresponsible actions of their teammates the night before.

And then Yohji had come down and, in front of the shocked and dumbfounded faces of both younger men, greeted Aya with a sloppy and enthusiastic good morning kiss.

Aya couldn't bring himself to end the relationship he had so foolishly started. He couldn't bear to pull away from that vibrant, golden man.

And despite himself, he couldn't bring himself to believe that that was a _bad_ thing.

* * *

End

I do have plans for more stories along this timeline, and plan to have them up just as soon as I can decide what I want to do. The purpose of this story was just to set up their relationship, and even though not everything has been tied up in a neat little bow, it's gone as far as it can within the "Strangers" context. Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you again soon.


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